《The Halcyon System [Anomalous Apocalypse LitRPG][B2 Complete]》 Chapter One Chapter One My second merge starts at 11:48 AM on the West End High soccer field, in the middle of my big sister¡¯s valedictorian speech. Alice says my first merge, when I was four, wasn¡¯t that bad. She says Mom died later, not that night in our apartment. But she¡¯s a liar. I was five, and I remember everything: The maroon glow of another world¡¯s sun in the midnight sky. The constant, low hum and the smell of roses and machine oil that filled our bedroom. An electric tang in my mouth that didn¡¯t go away for hours. Mom. And the flash of white light that blinded all three of us just before¡­ Look, the point isn¡¯t what happened. The point is that I remember, and that Alice is a liar. Remember that. It¡¯s gonna be important later.
Albert Head, Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 10:23 AM - - - - - My head bounces against the window as the bus wobbles on its ancient shocks, and I jerk awake suddenly. My sister jolts awake too, reaching for something¡ªbut out of all the soon-to-be graduates and their families, only I know what she wants. ¡°Miss Marvelous the Elephant Princess isn¡¯t here right now,¡± I whisper. Annoyance and frustration replace the panic on her perfect face; her light blonde eyebrows furrow over brilliant blue eyes, and her lips¡ªthe ones that look exactly like Mom¡¯s in the picture Dad keeps in his wallet¡ªpurse for a moment, but she doesn¡¯t say anything. I can tell she hasn¡¯t slept in days. Dad says that¡¯s her own damn fault. Dad also says I¡¯m not allowed to swear until I¡¯m fucking sixteen, so take that however you want. She fidgets with her sashes and the tassels hanging from her mortarboard hat: valedictorian, sports star, student body president. The black dress underneath her green graduation robe is perfect. So are her flats, her fingernail polish, and even the curl she¡¯s put into her bangs. Everything about Alice is flawless. I¡¯ll never live up to that standard. I didn¡¯t inherit Mom¡¯s blonde hair, her blue eyes, or even her full lips. And unlike Alice, it¡¯s not looking good for height either; Mom was tall, and so is Dad, but I got the short end of the stick, and I mean that literally. Greasy brown hair, mud-brown eyes, coke-bottle glasses, and no coordination¡ªI¡¯ve won the genetic lottery. She doesn¡¯t live up to her own standards either. It¡¯s all a lie, and it has been since I was five¡ªten years ago. If she hadn¡¯t been out with friends until three and screaming back and forth with Dad until almost four, she wouldn¡¯t have had to get up at five thirty to cover up the bags under her eyes with a pound of foundation and eyeshadow. I¡¯m a little shocked we¡¯re on this bus, to be honest. Usually, Dad would¡¯ve grounded us both after a fight like that, but I guess you only get one shot at graduation. A seat back, Dad snores blissfully. He doesn¡¯t even feel the bumps. I punch Alice¡¯s shoulder playfully¡ªkind of. ¡°Hey, dumb-butt, you¡¯ve got this. All you¡¯ve gotta do is walk in a straight line, say a few words, and get your scroll, right?¡± She grins back, flashing perfect white teeth at me. It¡¯s not a happy grin; her whole face seems stretched and tense under the foundation. ¡°Yep. It¡¯s my big day. The last day of the beginning of my life.¡± I roll my eyes, fish a mouse-brown bang out from between my glasses and my eye, and turn on my phone. ¡°Whatever, valedictorian. Just don¡¯t get stage fright up there, alright? That¡¯d be so embarrassing.¡± I don¡¯t hear her response. My aural aug pops and hisses, and Knights of the Apocalypse Three starts up, the retro graphics filling both my phone screen and the cheap optical aug in my left eye that¡¯s the reason I wear glasses. I¡¯m piloting a red knight this time, along with three others in my pick-up group. I¡¯ve mastered all the others except pink, and I¡¯m not planning on playing a healer any time soon. The stocky red figure dashes forward, her armored skirts flaring as she draws a longsword and points it right at me. The sword¡¯s tip almost seems real¡ªif swords were the size of toothpicks. Knights of the Apocalypse is something my augs can run. Barely. Alice got high-end augs, but when I turned seven, we¡¯d already moved to the basic living apartments, so Dad got mine from an augment drive instead. Just one more unfairness. They¡¯re helpful for school research and this decade-old game, but that¡¯s about it. They don¡¯t fit right, they overheat if I push them too much, and some functions give me migraines, but being connected is more important than an occasional day or two where I just¡­can¡¯t. I¡¯ve almost beaten the third boss and shut down a portal near New Jersey when the bus squeals to a stop. Victoria¡¯s glass-and-steel megabuildings loom far behind us, half-hidden by the morning fog. We¡¯ve arrived at West End High. I shut down the game and stand excitedly in my seat. I¡¯m not looking forward to the ceremony itself, but getting away from Alice and Dad will be a great change of pace, and I have a friend waiting. I hope. People file past Alice, who¡¯s still sitting down, and I crane my neck for a view over the tide of green robes filing toward the door. ¡°Wake Dad up,¡± Alice says. She tries to disappear into the sea of emerald-clad students, but I lunge forward and grab her wrist before she can. ¡°It¡¯s your big day, graduate. Wake him up yourself.¡± ¡°He likes you more, and I have to go.¡± Alice pulls her hand free and disappears into the crowd, walking awkwardly. I see her glance back at me, a hint of a grin hidden behind her sleep-deprived eyes. Then she¡¯s gone. ¡°He likes me more because I don¡¯t stay out all night!¡± I shout at a robe-clad figure I hope is her. Then I turn around, lean over the seat, and hesitate. Dad¡¯s wearing the same stiff, dirty jeans he¡¯s had on for three days, but he¡¯s changed his shirt; this one has buttons and a pocket. I wrinkle my nose. He still smells like sweat and something stale. He¡¯s smelled like that for nine years, off and on. It¡¯s just his scent. That¡¯s all. The smell of Dad. My big sister is right, though, as usual. He does like me more. He admitted it last night while we waited for Alice to come home. I don¡¯t run away much. I usually never stay out past curfew. And I listen¡ªmore than Alice does, anyway. At least, he thinks that. Enough stalling. Dad will sleep the whole day if I don¡¯t wake him up. He¡¯s done it before. He¡¯s done it a lot in the last ten years. And liar or not, Alice needs this day to go well. My phone disappears into my baggy back pocket under my dress, and I shake Dad¡¯s shoulder lightly. He groans and squints against the pale, cloud-covered sun. ¡°What the hell, Claire?¡± ¡°We¡¯re here. Let¡¯s go. I want good seats,¡± I say, voice pitched low. Then I drop the kicker. The thing that¡¯ll wake him up. ¡°Alice already left.¡± ¡°What the hell?¡± He repeats. He pushes himself out of his seat to his full six feet four inches. I used to see him as a rock when I was younger. He¡¯s still one, but time has worn him down, and his scraggly beard doesn¡¯t help hide his balding hair. Now that he¡¯s standing, the stale smell strengthens. ¡°She already left?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said. She¡¯s got graduation stuff to do, like standing in line and looking over her notes and getting checked for silly string or beach balls. They won¡¯t find any, though.¡± I¡¯d made sure of that. My perfect sister might be smuggling in half a dozen beach balls, but she¡¯d enlisted me to help her tape them to her thighs with medical tape. She can¡¯t have that perfect reputation tarnished¡ªnot before she gives her big speech.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The crowd thins enough for Dad to step out into the aisle. I slip into his wake; it¡¯s hard to tell if people are disgusted by his scent, intimidated by his size, or if there just aren¡¯t many people left on the bus, but they clear a path. I bob along behind him as the tide of people fills in behind us. Albert Head smells different than Victoria. I¡¯ve only been going to West End High for a year, and it¡¯s so much more comfortable than Ten Mile Point¡¯s industrial cleanness or the scents of fear, defeat, and mildew in the basic living apartments where we live. Outside of the city, Vancouver Island smells like the ocean. Unfortunately, that means dead fish and rotten seaweed, not just salt water and storm winds. I breathe it in. Even after my freshman year, it¡¯s still better than basic living. Dad¡¯s eyes focus, and he sees me for the first time all day. ¡°Where¡¯d you find that dress?¡± I keep my mouth shut as his eyes blaze, narrowing at me. Now¡¯s not the time to talk. I¡¯d hoped he wouldn¡¯t notice it. Sometimes, he¡¯s not very aware, and I hadn¡¯t had anything nice that wasn¡¯t Alice¡¯s, so I¡¯d stolen it from the bottom drawer of Dad¡¯s dresser. I don¡¯t quite fill it out, but I¡¯d traded taping the beach balls onto Alice for her pinning it in a few places so I don¡¯t drown in its red and white pleats. I swish them back and forth nervously, not looking at him; they rub against my cargo pants pockets. I¡¯ll look good for my sister¡¯s graduation, but not that good. ¡°You look just like her.¡± Dad¡¯s voice softens, and my stomach starts to untangle itself, only to tie itself in a different knot. ¡°Get your ass moving. Find good seats. I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±
Alice¡¯s favorite place is West End High¡¯s soccer pitch. Mine is under the bleachers. West End High¡¯s stands loop around the field on three sides. You can sit behind the goals or face the school¡¯s math and science wing. Usually, two benches sit against the building¡¯s cinderblock wall for the teams, right next to the decorative rocks, but a couple hundred folding chairs fill that space today instead. I don¡¯t find a spot; the bleachers haven¡¯t even started filling up, and Dad¡¯ll find a seat or two without me. I¡¯ve got important under-the-bleachers crap to get to. The mostly empty pack of cigarettes in my pocket bounces against my leg as I hurry toward the gap under the bleachers. I¡¯ve got three left: one for me, one for the friend I¡¯m meeting, and one for later. They¡¯re all stolen from Dad, and so is the lighter. But before I can get to the gap, a hand clamps onto my shoulder. I tense, ready to fight, but it¡¯s Candice. The soccer team¡¯s star defender, Alice¡¯s friend, and my enemy. I haven¡¯t seen her in a few weeks¡ªnot because she¡¯s stopped bugging me, but because the soccer team was in the playoffs and I¡¯d finally learned her spring semester schedule. Before that, she¡¯d been great at tormenting me, and Alice didn¡¯t believe a word I said about her. She¡¯s only a junior, too, so I¡¯ve got a whole nother year of dealing with her. ¡°What do you want?¡± I ask, looking at the metal seat under my feet so she can¡¯t see my glare. ¡°A smoke. I¡¯m out, and so is Derrick. I know you¡¯ve got some, so hand them over.¡± My fists tighten, but I can¡¯t fight her. Her boyfriend¡¯s behind her, and I might be able to lose her in the graduates¡¯ family and friends crowding in around us, but I can¡¯t lose both of them. I hike up the dress, fish out my pack of reds, and grudgingly hand her two. ¡°Thanks, CeeCee.¡± Candice pockets my cigarette with her free hand, passes the other to Derrick, and looks down at the soccer field. I start pulling away, but her grip tightens, and I stop. ¡°Hey, which one¡¯s Alice?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Better start looking, then. Can¡¯t let you go until I know who to cheer for, right?¡± Fuck. I¡¯m going to be late. I look up at her blue eyes under dark, curled hair, hoping she¡¯s just messing with me. But there¡¯s no mercy in her gaze, so I start scanning the crowded sea of dark green robes until I see someone who¡¯s about the right height, wearing the right sashes, with the right hair color. ¡°There,¡± I say, pointing with my free hand and pulling away with the other. She lets me go, and I slip into the crowd, getting some distance and letting my mind drift back to my own business. The Truth Club isn¡¯t an official school group. We all know something¡ªsomething our older siblings or our parents want to let die. We don¡¯t have to talk about it or even share what we know, but together, my friends and I keep our secrets alive. The one I always share is that my sister¡¯s a liar¡ªa fake. But the one I made the Truth Club for? That¡¯s what she¡¯s really lying about¡ªmy first merge and what happened. I don¡¯t talk about that one, but Alice does. In her version, I¡¯m four and slept through it, and it wasn¡¯t a big deal at all. Most people at school heard her story long before my freshman year, and since I don¡¯t talk about it, her version is the truth. But mine is the Truth. I only expect one other member of the Truth Club today. I send a quick text to see where she¡¯s at. Claire - Sora - The Ito family is a success story compared to ours, and I hate Mr. and Mrs. Ito for it. They¡¯ve gotten in and out of basic living. Most families get stuck in the apartments like flies in a sticky trap. That¡¯s what happened to us. But Sora¡¯s parents dragged all four kids up and out, back to the Duncan arcologies, kicking and screaming. We text all the time and see each other at school, but it¡¯s not the same. This has been planned for weeks; instead of listening to every speech, one more meeting of the Truth Club before summer break. I finally push through the crowd, smooth out my wrinkled dress, and duck below the bleachers. Dad¡¯s probably back, but Sora¡¯s not here yet, and the only part of graduation I care about hasn¡¯t started, so we have time. Not much, but some. So, while Sora¡¯s family hops off their bus and makes their way to the soccer field, I twiddle my thumbs and try not to drag Mom¡¯s dress through the muddy dirt and our cigarette butts. I already miss my two smokes. The band launches into Pomp and Circumstance, that ridiculous graduation song, as Sora arrives. Dad hasn¡¯t fallen asleep yet; I see him across the way. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late. Dad wanted to check the program. I think Itsuki made it in time, but it was close. I¡¯m glad Dad stopped to check, though. The keynote speaker is a total mystery.¡± Sora ducks under the bleachers, bob-cut black hair covering half her face. She brushes it back, tucking it behind her ears with her fingers. ¡°Who is it?¡± I ask. ¡°I have no idea. It just says, ¡®Mr. Smith.¡¯ There¡¯s no Mr. Smith at West End, though. That¡¯s a fake name, and we¡¯re in for a surprise. I bet it¡¯s a tech guru or someone like that.¡± Sora¡¯s face lights up. She¡¯s always been curious; a mystery like this always gets her going. It¡¯s something that does not matter. It doesn¡¯t affect me, her, our parents, or even Alice and Itsuki. So, of course, she¡¯s more interested in it than the reason we¡¯re here. ¡°Cool. Today is graduation and the last meeting of the Truth Club this school year. I want to share what I know so it never, ever disappears,¡± I intone solemnly. ¡°My sister, Alice Pendleton, is and remains a liar. She¡¯ll always be a liar and a fake, and nothing will ever change that.¡± Sora nods, echoing my seriousness. ¡°I also want to share what I know, so it never, ever disappears,¡± she says. Then she pauses. She¡¯s never paused before, and we¡¯ve spoken our Truths so many times that it¡¯s rote by now. I raise an eyebrow, wait a few seconds for it to get awkward, and¡ªfinally¡ªsay the magic words. ¡°Speak your Truth, Sister.¡± She nods again, flushing slightly, but I know she appreciates the encouragement. Outside our little lair, the audience shouts and whistles and cheers. The graduates must¡¯ve finally finished filing in. ¡°The Truth is my brother, Itsuki Ito, shouldn¡¯t be graduating today. My parents made dozens of phone calls and convinced Mr. Andrews to change his grade to a D. But he should have failed Senior Language Arts.¡± My jaw drops. Sora never so much as hinted at that¡ªnot in a million Truth Club meetings. She¡¯s opening up about her family, not because I¡¯m here, but because no one else is. No one but the thousands of people packing the stands and the chairs covering half the soccer field. I have to share a deeper, darker secret. I have to make her Truth less awful for her. ¡°I want to share what else I know,¡± I say. ¡°Go on.¡± But before I can, Alice¡¯s voice booms out across the loudspeakers. ¡°Congratulations, West End High School graduating class of 2043! Whew! We made it.¡± ¡°I have to go. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll share my Truth later, but Alice is¡ª¡° ¡°Giving her speech,¡± Sora says. She looks down, not meeting my eyes. ¡°I get it. Text me when you want to meet again.¡± I¡¯m already gone. In fact, I¡¯m halfway back to Dad when I realize that Sora needed to hear my Truth and that not sharing it is crushing her. But it¡¯s too late now. I slide onto the cold aluminum bleacher beside Dad, hiding a mud-covered spot on Mom¡¯s dress¡¯s hem, and nod. ¡°I needed the bathroom,¡± I say in explanation. Lies fuel the Truth Club, and some of them are our own. He grunts. There¡¯s a new scent on top of the stale one. New, but familiar. Another smell of Dad. It burns my throat and makes my eyes water. The beach balls are flying, and I wonder how many are Alice¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s a big world out there, but together, you and I are gonna change it, fellow Moose,¡± Alice says into the microphone. She did an okay job with her makeup. I can¡¯t see the bags under her eyes from this far away. I zoom in with my optic aug, even though it heats up and goes wobbly in protest. On a good day, I can stand about two minutes of this before the migraine hits. Less if I run my aural augs, too, but the loudspeaker helps with that. ¡°So celebrate your victory today, West End graduates! Be proud of yourselves. And tomorrow, be ready, because life is bigger than high school, and it¡¯s going to hit us hard. But we¡¯re going to hit it¡­we¡¯re going to¡­¡± Alice trails off. The mic drops from her hands. My heart starts thumping in my chest, louder and louder, as a rumbling fills my ears where, just a moment ago, I heard my sister¡¯s voice. It¡¯s the crowd. It¡¯s a thousand people whispering and muttering and shouting and screaming. I zoom my optic aug out. The moment I do, words fill my vision, and I realize why they¡¯re panicking. [Warning: Reality Merge Window Detected: 11:48 Local Time] [Locations: Victoria, BC; Albert Head, BC; Sooke, BC; Duncan, BC, (more)] Chapter Two Merges are¡­ ¡­hard to explain. After my first merge, my assigned therapist tried to help me make sense of things. He told me that worlds¡­realities¡­were like water balloons. But sometimes, the space between water balloons thinned. Or maybe it was the rubber. The balloon itself. Look, he said this crap, not me. When the thinning¡­thins¡­sometimes things come through. Realities merge. And the world changes. The two water balloons become one for a few seconds¡ªor a few minutes. Then the thinning thickens, and a little¡­unreality, or other reality¡­gets trapped in ours. People barely notice the short ones. But sometimes, there¡¯s a pin through the balloons, and the thinnings get stuck. Don¡¯t ask why they don¡¯t pop. He sucked at metaphors.
Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 11:47 AM - - - - - [Remain calm. Follow your optical augment¡¯s path to the nearest shelter.] [Avoid contact with anomalies and the unknown. Keep roads clear.] [Obey instructions from emergency personnel.] [Merge Window in :90] [Merge Window in :89] I have time to think in the second before the panic well and truly sets in. I¡¯ve never seen a SHOCKS message before. I think my therapist worked for SHOCKS. The pills that Alice and Dad took might¡¯ve had their logo. The triangle and circles with the arrows in them. But messages? Those are just for emergencies. I don¡¯t know what SHOCKS stands for, but the rumors fly whenever something weird happens. They¡¯re either the last line of defense against the inexplicable, scientists trying to explain it, or some shadow agency trying to hide it from everyone else. Sometimes, they¡¯re all three. But mostly, they¡¯re a boogieman¡ªa scary story and nothing more. Every kid at school has a SHOCKS story, but I¡¯m the only one that¡¯s met them. For a moment, the message on my optic aug scares me more than the impending merge. Then, the moment passes, and I remember. Will the maroon sun overpower clouds? Do I hear a buzz already? I can already taste the electric, metal tang that¡¯s kept me using plastic forks and spoons for nine years. And when it¡¯s over, will SHOCKS try to give me those pills again? My stomach tries to escape through my throat. I don¡¯t want what¡¯s happening. But there¡¯s something else¡ªa burning interest. Since it¡¯s happening, I have to know the truth. Another message flashes into my eyes, then vanishes before I can read more than the first two lines. It doesn¡¯t read like a SHOCKS warning, though it uses my augs. {Halcyon System Initializing} {Initiating Anti-Interference Countermeasures. Time to brea¡ª} It cuts off before I can read the rest. People move around me. Dad grabs my dress sleeve and drags me down the bleachers. I scream; he¡¯s got a lock of my hair in his grip along with the dress sleeve, and my scalp burns, but he keeps pulling. A few people glance at us, but we both ignore them: Dad because he¡¯s¡­Dad, and me because the pain recenters me. I¡¯ve been hurt worse, of course, but as hair rips off the side of my head, it jolts me out of my thoughts and into now. [Obey instructions from emergency personnel.] [Follow your optical augment¡¯s path to the nearest shelter.] [Ignore Strange Emergency Messages] [Merge Window in :07] I brace myself for what I know is coming, even as Dad pulls. The roses and machine oil, and the white flash. But none of that happens. [Merge In Progress. Find shelter immediately.] [Report anomalous encounters when safe. Avoid contact when possible.] [Follow your optical augment¡¯s path to the nearest shelter.] {Initiating Anti-Firewall Countermeasures. Time t¡ª} I pull my hair out of Dad¡¯s grip, tears running down my face. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Where¡¯s the light?¡± I whisper. Nothing¡¯s changed. Everything¡¯s exactly like it was. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡± Dad half-shouts. We stand on the soccer field¡¯s sideline. The sky seems normal for late May on Vancouver Island; the only smells are freshly cut grass, the ocean, and anxious sweat. I spit, and the electric metal taste leaves my mouth. I¡¯d only imagined it. ¡°There¡¯s supposed to be a red sun, Dad,¡± I whisper again, barely able to hear myself over the screaming, shouting crowd around us. But even as I say it, I remember. Dad doesn¡¯t believe my first merge happened the way I know it did, either. The screams and shouts fade as a voice echoes from the loudspeakers. It¡¯s not Alice¡¯s. ¡°Attention, students, faculty, and guests. Please make your way to the main doors and, from there, to the shelter located next to the front office.¡± We¡¯ve run drills, of course. They¡¯re better than the ones in elementary school¡ªthe ones where the plan was to hide in a closet or under your desk until someone came to rescue you. But ¡®go to a shelter¡¯ doesn¡¯t do much for me. I¡¯m more interested in why nothing¡¯s changed. But then I see it. Something has changed. A silver and multicolored glimmer shines through the gap between the bleachers. I¡¯ve never seen it before, but I know what it is. A thinning.
It¡¯s there, in the middle of the Truth Club¡¯s spot; our cigarette butts and candy wrappers form a perfectly circular ring around it, maybe two feet from its edges. My ears ring as I peer at its dancing rainbow through the bleachers¡ªnot the buzzing hum that filled my mind last time. And my teeth ache. I know it should be growing. I know I should run. But I¡¯ve never seen a thinning this closely before. Only what comes through them. But somewhere, some faceless scientist is watching this through a computer screen in ups and downs on a graph while I get to see it in person. And no amount of flashing warnings in my optic aug can stop me from seeing the Truth. Dad can, though. His hand closes roughly on my shoulder. As he spins me around, the stale stink smashes into me like a hammer. Then the other smell cuts through that. It¡¯s on his breath. ¡°You brought that here? To our school?¡± I ask. ¡°No!¡± The bulge in his shirt pocket and the silver lid are honest. He¡¯s a liar too. ¡°We don¡¯t have time. Stop staring at it and move!¡± I whip my head back toward the thinning. It hasn¡¯t grown at all. The shimmering kaleidoscope of colors dancing across it pulses like a heartbeat. Dad grabs me again, this time by my wrist. He¡¯s not a gentle man, and I squeak in pain for a moment before I bite it down. I want to fight. I want to argue. I want to scream at him about the flask in his pocket, and the stench rolling off him, and why he hasn¡¯t had a job in four years, and why I come home to ramen noodles for dinner every day after school and why Alice gets new clothes but I get nothing but her hand-me-downs that don¡¯t even fit right. But now¡¯s not the time. Besides, he likes me more because I don¡¯t ask those questions. So, instead, I let him drag me into the crowd. Three thousand people, all trying to squeeze through a double door. It¡¯s not organized. It¡¯s not a line. No, it¡¯s much, much worse than the cafeteria rush ever was, and Dad and I are stuck in the back.Stolen novel; please report. My ears keep ringing, growing louder and louder by the second. It drowns out all the shouting and screaming and fills my brain. I pull my hand free from Dad¡¯s, and he lets me go. Why not? I¡¯m safe now. Safe in line, with the merge just a few yards away. I watch the merge¡ªthe thinning¡ªout of the corner of my eye. It shimmers brightly under the bleachers, beckoning me closer. It¡¯s even where the Truth Club meets, almost like it¡¯s part of our little sisterhood, with Sora and me. Sora. Shit. Dad¡¯s not watching me. He¡¯s watching Alice¡ªperfect Alice, standing on a metal table and trying to direct traffic in her graduation gown and valedictorian¡¯s sash. She¡¯s such a fake. Such a liar. And right now, she¡¯s exactly the distraction I need. I¡¯m halfway across the field before Dad realizes I¡¯m gone. The school¡¯s Universal Reality Stabilizer is working. That¡¯s the ringing and the dancing colors; it said so during our drills. It¡¯ll keep me safe, so I don¡¯t have anything to fear. But I have to find Sora. And if we¡¯re being honest, I need to know the truth. My therapist didn¡¯t tell me the whole story¡ªI was five, after all¡ªand I want to learn more. The thinning glows brighter and more vibrant as I squat-walk under the bleachers. I can almost see through the water balloons; I probably could if it weren¡¯t for the Universal Reality Stabilizer. It¡¯s funny, though. The truth that SHOCKS fights, studies, or tries to hide sits right here, under the bleachers, in the middle of the Truth Club¡¯s meeting place. My ears pop, and the whining, ringing sound doubles. Sora¡¯s not here; she must¡¯ve rejoined her family after I left. But something is moving in the water balloon. The ringing stops. The kaleidoscope disappears. And in that moment, I realize how stupid I am. How fucked I am. But hey, at least I get to see the Truth before I die. The thinning opens just an arm¡¯s length from me¡ªa towering gate into another world. The gate opens wider and wider, and the cool May afternoon grows frigid. Air rushes into the widening thinning and then, suddenly¡ª I blink. ¡ªWhen my eyes open, we¡¯ve merged. And it¡¯s all wrong. I don¡¯t recognize this world. The sun seems pale, a white light like the fluorescents in the school¡¯s hall. It struggles to break through the clouds, its rays barely brightening the space under the bleachers to twilight. More concerning are the clouds themselves¡ªyellow-black, smoggy splotches of smoke that drift together, trade lightning bolts, and then drift apart. The URS couldn¡¯t keep the merge closed, but it¡¯s keeping a bit of¡­home¡­intact around the school and the soccer field. That¡¯s the good news. The bad is that I¡¯m not there. I¡¯m here¡ªunder the bleachers, an arm¡¯s length from the merge¡¯s middle. And there¡¯s something here with me. A¡ª {Halcyon System Initial Sync} {Bypassing Firewalls} {Firewall Protocols Overridden: 1/3} {System Access: 15%} {Thinling (-1) - Anomalous Entity} {Stability 9/10} ¡ªThe words pop into my augs. I¡¯ve never heard it before, but somehow, thinling feels right. Correct, even. I don¡¯t have time to focus more on it, though. My entire head hurts just looking at the thing; it¡¯s like an optic and aural aug migraine at the same time. My world has collapsed to just me, the bleachers, and the thinling. Its bone-white skin/exoskeleton/armor glistens with a thin sheen of rain/blood/oil. Jaws/claws/saws open, and it slithers/slides/clatters across the ground toward me. The animal/monster/machine keeps changing every time I blink, but it hates me no matter what it looks like. Whatever made the thinling created/evolved/designed it to kill. Fuck, it¡¯s hard to think about it. Hard to see it. It roars¡ªMy brain thinks it¡¯s a monster, even though it looks like a robot right now¡ªat me. And in that second, as an electric smell mixes with warm ground beef, I decide I don¡¯t really want to know the Truth after all. I backpedal, but the thinling moves quicker. The arm¡¯s-length gap between it and me disappears as I churn my legs through syrup, and its jaw/claw/saw screams. The mud¡ªor maybe an empty, abandoned bag of Lays chips¡ªslides under my shoe, and I scream. My scream cuts off with a yelp and a whooshing sound as my back hits the mud, driving every ounce of air from my lungs. I try to breathe, but I can¡¯t fill my lungs. I can¡¯t fill my lungs! They burn as I crab-crawl backward through the mud, wedging my body deeper under the ever-narrowing bleachers. A small, inconsequential voice in my head reminds me that I¡¯m dead anyway. Dad¡¯s gonna kill me for getting mud on Mom¡¯s dress. The rest of my mind focuses on worming through the cold metal benches and onto the soccer field. The thinling hisses/roars/thunders beneath the metal bars, chewing/ripping/sawing at them, the steel and aluminum screeching in pain as sparks shower onto my baggy pants. I try to scream. But I still can¡¯t fill my lungs, so all that comes out is a half-assed cough. That¡¯s enough, though, to get my lungs started. I breathe. Pain rips through my chest as freezing-cold air hits my empty lungs, and this time, I do scream. But I also wriggle free of the bleachers and start running. Not toward the crowd staring at me like I¡¯m the problem, but across the field toward the math and science wing. I need to run toward Dad. He¡¯s a rock. He¡¯ll keep me safe. But I¡¯m running toward the windows instead. Mr. Roberts, the PE teacher, has never said a single nice thing about me. I don¡¯t do enough push-ups. I can¡¯t finish the mile run without walking. I¡¯m nothing like Alice. I¡¯ve always ignored his bullshit, but today¡ªright now¡ªI wish I¡¯d worked a little harder in his class. The bleachers whine and howl and collapse as the thinling tears itself free and steps onto the soccer field. Now people start screaming and shouting. Now they see the thinling and the merge. The crowd turns to a frothing mass of people fighting to get inside. I can¡¯t change course now. The thinling is right behind me; I can already feel its jaws/claws/saws slicing into my back. There¡¯s only one good option: Mrs. Helquist¡¯s classroom window. We¡¯ve practiced window-breaking; every kid in British Columbia has. You put the rock into the top corner as hard as you can, then use a jacket to break away the glass stuck to the frame. Cover up what¡¯s left with the same jacket and crawl through. That¡¯s great, but it doesn¡¯t help when you¡¯ve got three seconds to break that window and get your ass through. So, the decorative rock crashes through the window pane. I throw myself through the still-falling glass, screaming as it cuts me. And then I¡¯m inside Mrs. Helquist¡¯s room.
Mrs. Helquist hasn¡¯t lied once this year. She says math only cares about the truth. I know she means capital-T-Truth, and that¡¯s why I love her. Her room looks exactly like it has every day this year. Posters for how to run the quadratic formula or find the cosine of a number or whatever. Desks in perfect rows, even though every other teacher uses tables to make us talk to each other. A perfectly clean whiteboard and a teacher¡¯s desk that¡¯s both straightened up and messy at the same time. I don¡¯t have time to worry about the glass I¡¯ve spread across the floor. I brush the worst of it off my arms and face. The door¡¯s right there, and once I get through, I can hurry down the hall, past the gigantic fire doors, and rejoin everyone else on the way to the shelter. That¡¯s doable. The thinling crashes through the window¡¯s remains a moment later. My lungs scream in protest as I draw another ragged breath, and then I¡¯m running again. The thick classroom door¡ªwood with a metal core¡ªopens outward as I jam the handle down. I rush through, hitting my shoulder on the frame, and slam it shut. It clicks locked, and I lean against the cinderblock wall under a poster telling us that phones aren¡¯t allowed in the classrooms. My lungs burn, but I gratefully suck in a few breaths, then start picking glass shards from my forearms. My fear-sweat smell mixes with the lemon-scented cleaner the janitor uses. I¡¯m okay, I lie to myself. I¡¯m okay. But that¡¯s not true. That¡¯s not true at all. A moment later, the animal/monster/machine crashes into Mrs. Helquist¡¯s door. The reinforced safety glass crinkles over my head, and I scream and pee myself a little. I¡¯m not proud of it, but it¡¯s the truth. The pale green light from the ¡®Exit¡¯ sign and a few red emergency LEDs light my way as I hobble toward a pair of closed fire doors at the end of the math and science wing. My throat tightens; I¡¯ve walked through those doors seven hundred thirty-two times, and they¡¯ve never been closed. The thinling rips/tears/cuts into Mrs. Helquist¡¯s wooden door; the sound of metal rubbing on metal mixes with splintering wood. I don¡¯t have long, so I grab the fire doors¡¯ handles and heave with all my strength. Nothing. I pound on the door. ¡°Someone, help! Open the door! Sora! Dad! Alice! Someone!¡± And to my surprise, someone answers. ¡°Claire?! Claire, is that you?! I lost Dad! I can¡¯t find him!¡± Alice¡¯s high-pitched, panicky voice is muffled by six inches of steel. She¡¯s not the calm, traffic-directing valedictorian she was two minutes ago. So, that¡¯s something. ¡°He¡¯s not here! Open the door!¡± Glass shatters behind me. I hear Alice shake her handles, then try to push the doors. ¡°Claire, they won¡¯t move! Hey, quit pushing! Fuck!¡± Alice is swearing. Perfect Alice is swearing. The door¡¯s far side quiets for a moment, then I hear her voice again. I said to remember that Alice is a liar, right? And that it was gonna be important. This is part of why. ¡°Claire, the doors won¡¯t move! They¡¯re coming! I¡¯ve got to go! I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯ll find someone! Someone will come for you!¡± I shout something. I¡¯m not sure what. She¡¯s lying. Then, just like Mom, she drives in the dagger and pierces my heart. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Claire. It¡¯s going to be okay.¡± I scream at the door and pound on its steel bulk until my hands can¡¯t pound anymore. Then I kick. But she doesn¡¯t come back. She¡¯s gone. Perfect, fake Alice. She¡¯s abandoned me¡ªher sister! The dark hall presses around me, the exit sign¡¯s wavering circle of green light barely holding it back. My throat¡¯s tight and dry, and between that, my not-quite-recovered lungs, and my screaming, it hurts to breathe. Somewhere down the hall, the thinling keeps clawing/tearing/cutting into Mrs. Helquist¡¯s door, and it¡¯s going to find me, and I can¡¯t stop it. I slump down next to the locked fire doors. There¡¯s no way through. I can¡¯t get to the shelter in the basement next to the office off the main hall, and that¡¯s the only place that¡¯s gonna be safe. Down the hall, Mrs. Helquist¡¯s classroom door splinters. I listen to the wood snap and fragment; as I do, I hear something else. A ringing in my ears. It¡¯s quiet, but it¡¯s there¡ªanother thinning pushing against the URS somewhere nearby. I didn¡¯t like the last truth I found. But maybe this one will be better. It can¡¯t be worse. As the thinling¡¯s jaws/claws/saws continue shredding the door, I push myself up, wobble as my vision blackens, and lean against the wall for a moment. I¡¯m not used to being woozy, but I don¡¯t have time to wait for it to fade, either. The thinling¡¯s claw/jaw/saw breaks through, but I¡¯m already gone, hobbling down the hall after the ringing in my ears. Chapter Three I¡¯ve seen fifteen thinnings and two merges, so I know a few things. First, most thinnings don¡¯t merge. Second, Universal Reality Anchors catch thinnings. (I shouldn¡¯t know about URAs. My therapist messed up on that.) Thinnings all have kaleidoscoping colors and make my ears ring. That¡¯s the URAs. If you can hear it but not see it, don¡¯t worry. If you hear it and then don¡¯t, do worry. But that almost never happens. Fourth, merges and thinnings almost always come in threes. The Truth Club thinks three is a Number of Power. They didn¡¯t make that up. I did. And last, every thinning I¡¯ve seen happened after my first merge. And Alice and Dad both say I made them up. They¡¯re both liars. Make of that what you will.
Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 11:53 AM - - - - - My tinnitus gets louder and louder until, as I step through the L-shaped entrance to the girls¡¯ bathroom, it¡¯s all I can hear. The thinling¡¯s screeches/roars/grinding fail to break through the ringing, and my whole head feels like it¡¯s vibrating, even though it¡¯s only my aural aug. I¡¯ve only been this close to a thinning once, and that was three¡ªno, four¡ªminutes ago. This one feels worse. I want to see the Truth in this thinning. But, I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m terrified. My throat burns, and my arms won¡¯t stop bleeding. And I don¡¯t know where the thinling is. It¡¯s with me, on the right side of the fire door, away from other people. But I don¡¯t know where. I¡¯m still in my lizard brain¡ªfight, flight, freeze, fawn. Besides the water balloons, that¡¯s one of the only true things my therapist told me. Everyone¡¯s got two brains¡ªthe people brain that makes choices and the lizard brain that keeps you alive. My lizard brain is good at freeze, fight, and fawn. Freeze usually keeps me out of trouble, and fawn keeps Dad happy. Fight¡¯s never gotten me much, though. Alice is a fawner, too, but she fights with Dad as much as she fawns. I¡¯m in trouble now because I got curious and then froze instead of fleeing like I should have. I squeeze my eyes shut, count to three, and open them. The graffiti in the girls¡¯ bathroom never gets cleaned up¡ªnot before the girls draw more. Someone¡¯s penned ¡®beware of limbo dancers¡¯ onto the bottom of a stall door along with a stick figure doodle of a man bending backward, and Candice has written her boyfriend¡¯s name on the tile wall with a heart around it. A half-dozen other girls¡¯ commentary about what a creep Derrick is adorns the rest of the chipped, off-white tiles. The thinning¡¯s dancing lights reflect off the stained, pink floor tiles inside a stall, but not the one with the limbo man. Some girl has kissed the mirror over the bathroom sink, leaving a blindingly crimson lip mark in the corner. It hasn¡¯t been cleaned off yet, either. She¡¯ll probably get sick from kissing it if a thinling doesn¡¯t get her first. And the whole place stinks like only a girl¡¯s bathroom can. Pee, lemon cleaning supplies, and perfume. Ugh. Really, I decide, the whole thing is a math problem. The steps seem simple, but it has a lot of variables. I can¡¯t let the thinling find me, and I have to stop bleeding. Once I solve those, I can work on the rest of the problem. So, first, the thinling. The thinning is in the stall. I ignore it for now. The whining ring fades slightly as I creep into the bathroom¡¯s entrance. This is not an improvement since now I can hear the monster¡¯s screech/roar/grind. It sounds like it¡¯s down the hall, tearing into something solid. I pop my head out for a moment. Its claw/jaw/saw pulls away from the impossibly thick fire door, revealing a gash so wide I can see it from down the hall. Its eyes/sensors turn toward me, and I duck back inside the bathroom. That was stupid. There¡¯s nowhere to go. But I can¡¯t think¡ªmy head is light, and I wobble just standing. I stagger back to the wall, slide into a sitting position with my legs splayed and my baggy cargo pants hiked up around my calves, and wait. I don¡¯t have to wait long before it slithers/slides/clatters into the bathroom entrance. It roars again, rushing toward me, and then stops. Not, like, of its own free will, but like it¡¯s hit an invisible wall across the bathroom, right in front of the first sink. It strains and lashes its claws/jaws/saws against whatever¡¯s stopped it, but it can¡¯t pass. It doesn¡¯t even make sparks. I release a breath I hadn¡¯t realized had caught in my throat. The thinling¡¯s roars of protest/anger/frustration and my tinnitus drown out the raspberry sound between my numb lips. It can¡¯t come in. It can¡¯t come in. Why can¡¯t it come in? That feels important, but it¡¯s not something I can puzzle out right now. My brain feels fuzzy. The thinling¡¯s not doing it, and the ringing in my ears¡ªokay, it¡¯s awful, but it¡¯s not the problem. I slump down below a paper towel dispenser, reach up with a shaky hand, and grab the rough brown paper. Sheet after sheet rains down on me as I pull, tear, grab, and repeat. Once I have enough, I start the long, agonizing process of trying to find and cover dozens of cuts across my arms and face. Most aren¡¯t a problem. They¡¯re shallow, and they¡¯ve already slowed or stopped. But one on my right palm has cut deep. I wrap paper towels around it, but it keeps throbbing and pulsing. Blood drips from a long cut across my forehead, but head injuries bleed a lot, right? It¡¯s probably not gonna kill me. My hand is more worrying. Did it catch a tendon? It hurts to move my fingers, but that might be the cut, not something deeper. While I¡¯m playing at medic, the thinling stalks back and forth just feet away. It roars and rips/tears/cuts futilely at the¡­barrier¡­keeping it from me. I still can¡¯t see exactly what it is, and I can¡¯t tell why it¡¯s stuck. But I don¡¯t care. Just this once, I don¡¯t need to know the Truth. At least, not yet. So, equation time. I know where the thinling is. Obviously. I tighten my makeshift paper towel bandage around my palm and start dabbing at my forehead, wincing every time the rough brown paper catches on the cut¡¯s ragged edge. I¡¯ve got most of the bleeding mostly taken care of, though my skin looks like it¡¯s mostly paper towels. Which means I can work on the next step in balancing this. This part goes fast. Dad? Shelter. Sora? Not sure. Ugh, Alice, who left me? Shelter. Teachers? Unknown. The police? Probably in shelters, but definitely not here. SHOCKS? Not here, but probably on their way. This seems right up the boogeyman¡¯s alley. Superman? Yeah, right. So, no one¡¯s coming¡ªno one I want to see. I¡¯ve got me, Mom¡¯s dress, as many paper towels as I can use, water, and¡­ ¡­my phone. I fish it out of my baggy cargo pants¡¯ pocket, though I have to hike up Mom¡¯s filthy dress a little to get to it. There aren¡¯t any new messages, just a flashing SHOCKS warning to avoid the strange. I snort. Then I laugh. Then I can¡¯t stop laughing, and it doesn¡¯t feel like good laughter. As I sit against the bathroom wall and laugh, I thumb through my contacts. Eventually, I land on the one person I can trust to text me back, even if I can¡¯t trust her for anything else. I start typing, and the panic hits me again like a wave, crashing straight through the hysterical laughter. Claire - The ¡®sending a message¡¯ icon spins and spins, my throat tightening painfully again with each passing second. I count to almost forty in my head before a new message comes in, and my message¡¯s text goes red. Victoria Emergency Services - Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The message comes in twice more, identical word for word, before it stops. My phone doesn¡¯t power off, but it¡¯s like it¡¯s stuck in airplane mode. I can¡¯t connect to anything. Not to the internet, or text messages, or even to my augs¡ªboth of which are stuck in one-to-one mode with my unaugmented eye and ear. That¡¯s not the end of the world, though. Even running hot enough to hurt, neither gets above three-to-one. What is the end of the world is that I can¡¯t text or call anyone. Well, almost anyone. I dial 911. It doesn¡¯t disconnect me. Instead, an automated voice speaks in my aural aug. ¡°All VES emergency lines are currently busy. Please hold. An operator will be with you as soon as possible. Your emergency is impor¡ª¡° I hang up and recalculate my equation since I can¡¯t talk to anyone. SHOCKS: Definitely on their way. Superman? Even less likely, he won¡¯t want to fight them. And no phone¡ªor at least the only thing it¡¯s good for is as a flashlight. Pushing down another shudder, I light my last cigarette, push it into my mouth, and ready myself. The smoke fills my lungs, and I blow it out slowly¡ªWest End High¡¯s in trouble already, so a fire alarm won¡¯t make things worse. It¡¯s time to deal with the thinning. I push myself up to my feet with a groan. The thinling scrabbles/scratches/slices at the invisible wall, making me jump, and I side-eye it the whole time I scooch toward the bathroom stall. My tinnitus ramps up until my entire head pounds and my aural aug burns inside my ear. ¡°I want to know the Truth,¡± I whisper to myself. I repeat it like a mantra. Then I pull on the stall door¡¯s handle. It opens with a creak. The smell of cinnamon and tulips hits me. I catch a split-second view of the new thinning before its rainbow colors flash and vanish, the ringing stops, and every lightbulb in the bathroom shatters in a loud, rippling series of pops.
I¡¯m terrified, but also relieved. Terrified because I¡¯m in deep shit now. I¡¯ve been in the center of two merges in the last fifteen minutes. The animal/monster/machine paces ten feet away, back and forth. The darkness feels like it¡¯s trying to drown me, and that¡¯s worse than the thinling. And SHOCKS is on the way. But relieved because, when I flip my phone¡¯s flashlight on, I see what¡¯s emerged from the second thinning. It¡¯s a gun. A revolver. Not the kind from Westerns with the long, gray-black barrel and worn wooden handle, but the kind a hard-boiled detective might carry. Or May Lay, one of the Knights from Knights of the Apocalypse. She has like twenty guns. It¡¯s short, stubby, and shockingly white¡ªalmost porcelain, except for the part where you put bullets. That part shines like polished brass. It¡¯s loaded, with shells made of different metals. I should stop myself, a tiny voice in the back of my head says as I reach for the revolver. I¡¯m already in deep shit, and I don¡¯t need more. And the revolver¡¯s a lie, anyway. It¡¯s not real. It can¡¯t be real. But the other voices¡ªthe ones that want to know the Truth or that know that if I want to deal with the trouble I¡¯m going to be in, I need to solve the trouble I¡¯m in now¡ª shout it down. My fingers wrap around the carved, notched grip. And I¡¯m not drowning anymore. My whole body burns instead, and I scream. But when I move my arms, it just gets worse, not better, until I¡¯m hugging myself and whimpering while trying not to so much as blink. As quickly as it hits me, the sensation fades, and I examine the revolver more closely. It¡¯s not heavy, and the grip is somehow perfectly sized for my not-quite-adult hand. I fiddle with the brass bullet holder¡ªI¡¯ve never paid attention to what you call a gun¡¯s parts. The bullet holder should rotate out so I can load it again, but no matter what I do, I can¡¯t get it to. It doesn¡¯t even spin when I run my thumb against it. Instead, the bullet seems locked in line with the barrel. Seven seems like a strange number of bullets for a six-shooter. There¡¯s also no safety. I know that part of a gun. My finger rests against the trigger guard¡ªit is porcelain, but the kind you make armor out of, not the type that rich people use for dishes and everyone else shits in. This little pistol is ready to use; I can feel it more than I can see it. And I¡¯m ready, too. {Halcyon System Final Sync} {Overriding Firewalls} {Firewall Protocols Overridden: 2/3} {System Access: 50%} {Affected System Features} ?Skill Information ?Truth Information ?Archived Anomaly Information ?Assistance Functions {Truth Learned: Anomalous Bond 2 (-2) - Information Unavailable} {Stability 7/10} {Skill Acquired: Revolver Mastery 1 - Information Unavailable} {Claire Pendleton} ?Stability 7/10 ?Skills - Revolver Mastery 1 ?Truths - Anomalous Bond 2 (-2) ?Inquiries - I blink back tears as my optic aug heats up and my aural one pops and hisses. The message reads a little like an error report on a crashing computer, a little like my augs when I reboot them in the morning, and a tiny bit like Knights of the Apocalypse¡¯s character status screen. I glaze over most of it, but a few important parts stick out¡ªlike the Truths. I try to mentally tap the link to Anomalous Bond, but every time, I get a bonking, boinging error sound. There has to be a workaround to see what Revolver Mastery or Anomalous Bond are, but no matter what I try, the message screen won¡¯t open them. After almost three minutes of trial and error sounds, I decide three basic things. First, I need to keep my Stability high. Without the Halcyon System¡¯s Assistance Functions¡ªwhatever those are¡ªI can¡¯t say for sure what¡¯ll happen if I lose all my Stability, but based on the fire I felt when I grabbed the revolver, and on the earlier message when I panicked after seeing the thinling, I don¡¯t want it to dip much lower. Second, I want to know what the firewalls are and how Inquiries work. {Inquiry: What¡¯s going on at West End High?} Ah. That¡¯s how. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s going to happen if I answer it, but it helps me keep track of my variables better. And third, I have a tool to access the Truth now. And not only that, but to do it in a way that lets me be sure, for the very first time, that it really is the Truth. That is, as long as I can trust the Halcyon System. And, unlike my English teacher and Mr. Roberts, it hasn¡¯t lied to me yet. It also hasn¡¯t told me anything yet, except that I¡¯m in the process of¡­losing my mind? Falling apart? I wish I knew what Stability did if it fell, but I have bigger problems. I push myself out of my squat and turn, pointing the revolver toward the sink, and the door, and the thinling. I¡¯m not helpless. I don¡¯t have to run, and that¡¯s the Truth. I can¡ª It¡¯s gone.
My first instinct is to chase after it. Why is my first instinct to chase after it? Without the tinnitus and the thinling¡¯s impossible-to-describe form-changing, my migraine recedes slightly. I shouldn¡¯t chase it. It¡¯ll tear me apart. What I should do is try to find a way through the school, or out of the school and back inside somewhere else, to the shelter. That¡¯s where safety is. That¡¯s where Dad and Alice and, I hope, Sora all are. But that thinling? It¡¯s a mystery. And I swore an oath to the Truth Club and myself that I¡¯d seek the Truth. Only they all thought that circle under the bleachers was a game, and I knew I meant every word. So I¡¯m going to chase after it. But I don¡¯t have to be dumb about it. I mean, I¡¯ve been pretty dumb so far, but I don¡¯t have to be. Alice is a valedictorian, and while I don¡¯t care enough about Language Arts or Social Studies to earn top grades like her, I¡¯m not dumb. I just don¡¯t pretend I¡¯m interested in stuff I don¡¯t care about. On one side of the equation, I¡¯ve got the thinling. And on the other, a variable. Something made it stop, and it didn¡¯t do it because it felt merciful. It could be the mirror. Maybe it can¡¯t understand its appearance either. Maybe there¡¯s something else going on with it. Or maybe it¡¯s the pipes. I¡¯ve read plenty of myths that make running water a safe place. Maybe there¡¯s truth to them. I can¡¯t steal a pipe, though. My fingers scream in protest by the time I finally wrench the bathroom mirror free. It takes me almost ten minutes of pulling and wriggling my fingers between its steel backing and the cinderblock wall. When it finally does, I¡¯ve twisted two nails back on my right hand, crushed my left thumb between the wall and the steel, and my head spins from standing for too long. But I have the bathroom mirror¡ªintact, even the half-cleaned lipstick stain in the corner. I lean against the wall, arms wrapped around the glass-and-steel mirror in a hug, and breathe. Then I carefully creep back to the door, revolver in one hand and mirror tucked under my arm, and stare into the twilit hallway. It¡¯s there. The thinling is back at the steel fire door, clawing/biting/sawing at the metal. It¡¯s only a matter of time before it breaks through, which would be both good and bad. Good, because I need that door open. But bad, because there are people over there. Fakes and liars, yes, but still people. They can¡¯t handle the Truth. I decide I can, and I flip the mirror around to face the thinling. I hope the reflection will act like a steel beam, flattening the monster against the wall or smashing it into the fire door. But it doesn¡¯t. Instead, the thinling ignores it. But for the first time, I can see its true form in the reflection. It¡¯s alive. Not like a wolf, but similarly-sized; we have wolves nearby, where Vancouver Island goes wild. Where it should have four legs, it has six, and where a wolf would have jaws, its mouth is a circle of spinning, writhing teeth. It¡¯s covered in white plates that make it look bug-like, but there¡¯s never been a bug this size. Below the white, raw flesh pulses and twitches; I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s black or dark red, but that¡¯s a lighting problem, not because I can¡¯t see the Truth. It¡¯s still ignoring me and the mirror. I decide to take a gamble. The mirror¡ªhopefully¡ªstopped the thinling once. It can probably do it again. I set it against the wall under a poster about the quadratic formula, level the revolver in my hands, facing the thinling even though it hurts my palm and my smashed thumb to aim, and pull the trigger. It cracks, a purplish beam of light cuts through the air, sizzling, and the shell''s brightness fades. The sound echoes in the hall, and I realize I¡¯ve imagined the beam¡¯s sound. The ray leaving the gun¡¯s barrel reaches twenty¡ªno, fifty¡ªfeet, touches the wall above the thinling, and vanishes except for heat ripples in the air. I¡¯ve missed. The revolver¡¯s bullet-holder clicks as it slowly spins. I stare at the mirror, not at the thinling, because the mirror tells me the Truth. It¡¯ll stop the thinling. It has to. But as the monster slithers/slides/clatters across the ground toward me, I lose my nerve and run. The mirror sits against the wall outside the bathroom while I hide inside, the revolver pointed shakily at the doorway. A moment passes. Two. Three. I allow myself to breathe. To stand up and take one hesitant step toward the entrance, then another. When I gather the courage to look outside, I almost break right back into hysterics again. The mirror worked. And the revolver¡¯s shell glows a bright orange against the hall¡¯s twilight. I hobble toward the thinling. It roars in protest/anger/despair as I grit my teeth, hold the revolver six inches from its scrabbling jaws/claws/saws, and brace myself. I pull the trigger. Then the thinling screams¡ªthe most concrete sound it¡¯s made since I first saw it¡ªand falls to the tile floor. Its scream hammers my mind, and I try to fight it, but can¡¯t. The revolver slips from my grasp and joins it. And a moment later, so do I. Chapter Four I¡¯m very, very good at telling when someone¡¯s lying to me. People have lied to me my whole life, so I¡¯ve had some practice. I¡¯ve only forgiven one lie¡ªthe first one I remember. The sky glowed maroon, machine oil odor filled my nostrils, and I huddled below my blankets while Alice squeezed Miss Marvelous and screamed in the bottom bunk. Mom told us it would be alright. She lied. My therapist spent two hours lying to me. He only told me three things that felt true¡ªthe Number of Power. When I clammed up, he shoved some chewable pills at me and left. Dad drove us to the hotel twenty minutes later, drinking from a silver bottle. I¡¯d hidden the pills in my slippers, between my toes. No one saw.
Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 12:22 PM - - - - - {Stability 6/10} The dinging sound in my aural aug wakes me up. There¡¯s another weird message, but also a call. A call. That¡¯s good. Maybe it¡¯s over. I¡­killed¡­the thinling. But Alice and Sora wouldn¡¯t call through my aug. They know it heats up during calls. And my phone¡¯s still on mandatory airplane mode. I pick up. The man¡¯s voice is almost monotone, perfectly calm, and disgustingly familiar. I¡¯ve heard it before, but I can¡¯t remember where. Was it the principal¡¯s voice? The therapist¡¯s? I know it¡¯s not Dad¡¯s; he¡¯s never monotone and rarely calm. ¡°We¡¯re tracking and inbound on your position. Hold your pos¡ª¡° ¡°I¡¯m Claire,¡± I say suddenly. And the floodgates open. ¡°Claire Pendleton. I¡¯m at West End High, and there were thinnings, but they both merged, and the first one brought a world through and a thinling, but the second one gave me a gun and I hid in the bathroom and used the mirror to stop it and I shot it. I shot it and it¡¯s dead! But I need help. Help, pleasepleaseplease!¡± ¡°Subject is verbal.¡± The voice isn¡¯t speaking to me. He¡¯s talking through my panic, my hysteria. Is he even listening to me? No. No, he¡¯s not. ¡°Subject is a female adolescent, fourteen to sixteen years old. Potentially violent. Description does not match the augs¡¯ owner¡¯s description. Transferring to James.¡± ¡°What do you mean? They¡¯re my¡ª¡° The line goes dead. ¡°¡ªaugs¡­¡± And just like that, I¡¯m alone again. Everything hurts, whether it¡¯s my raw, tender palm, aching throat, or just the phantom pain from the fires that swept across me when I¡­bonded¡­with the revolver. But the thinling is dead. I killed it. And if I can kill it, I can get to the shelter. I can blend in with the other students and pretend this hasn¡¯t happened. I fiddle with my optical aug, trying to pull up the System¡¯s messages again. After a minute of fruitless attempts, I start muttering to myself, and it almost immediately flickers open in my eye. I roll my eyes at how stupid that feels, then start fiddling with it, trying to get a sense of how it all works together. Without the Assistance Functions, though, it¡¯s tough to tell. I know I¡¯ve lost Stability from fighting thinlings and discovering the revolver, but I¡¯m not sure how to get it back. I¡¯m halfway through trying an equation using Skills, Truths, and Inquiries as variables when my aural aug goes off again. If it¡¯s the calm, monotone man, I¡¯m going to scream. I answer the call. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Hello, my name is James, and you¡¯re Claire Pendleton, right?¡± This voice is younger; James can¡¯t be more than my age¡ªmaybe a year older. And unlike the first voice¡¯s calm monotone, James has life in his voice. Energy. Ups and downs. He¡¯s a teenager, like Alice or Sora¡ªI¡¯m not sure why he¡¯s on the phone and not an adult. But before he says another word, I know a truth about James. It¡¯s in his tone. He will lie to me. Maybe he already has. I won¡¯t forgive his lies, I decide. But I don¡¯t have any choice but to tolerate them. I take a few breaths, cough, and try to close the floodgates this time. ¡°Yes, Claire Pendleton. Don¡¯t lie to me, James. I¡¯m in trouble, and I need help. Everything¡¯s not going to be alright, and telling me that won¡¯t help.¡± It comes out angrier than I wanted, but I can¡¯t take that back now. He¡¯s taken aback, though. I can tell from the silence in my aug for a minute. Then he clears his throat. ¡°I¡¯m building your profile now. Once we have it, my superiors will tell me exactly what I can and can¡¯t tell you. You¡¯re not who we expected from your augments. For now, here¡¯s what you need to know. Your survival is important to us. I¡¯m going to do everything I can to make sure you get to West End High¡¯s safe room in one piece, and in return, you¡¯re going to keep me on the line. Got it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not going to work,¡± I say. ¡°My aug¡¯s a piece of junk, and it¡¯s already overheating. And I don¡¯t even know who you are! I killed a thinling, and I¡¯ve been through two merges today, and I don¡¯t know anything about you or what you want.¡± The panic¡¯s hitting me again. I need to sit down. My feet don¡¯t respond right away as I slowly struggle to stand and walk to the girls¡¯ bathroom. I sit on the toilet in the limbo-dancer stall, the door held open with my foot, and clear my throat. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°My name is James, and I¡¯m cleared to tell you I¡¯m an Operator for the Supernatural and Hidden Objects Control and Knowledge Service and that you¡¯re currently a person of interest to us.¡± I shiver despite my best efforts to keep it together. That¡¯s not a lie¡ªat least not all of it.
My aural aug beeps, letting me know it¡¯s reaching critical heat levels. I already know that, obviously. It¡¯s getting painful to listen to James at all. But I¡¯ve been a person of interest to SHOCKS before. Just after the burgundy skies, the machine oil and roses, and the metal tang I couldn¡¯t spit out. And the missing wall that let in the warp and made Mom a liar. It wasn¡¯t fun the first time, and it won¡¯t be fun now. [Patch Installation In Progress] [Patch Installation Successful] Before I can complain, James speaks in my ear. It sounds like he¡¯s talking through a walkie-talkie now. ¡°I¡¯ve downloaded a speed limiter patch into your aural and optical augs. It¡¯ll reduce my optics feed quality, and we¡¯ll sound scratchy and staticky, but they should stop overheating. Twenty to thirty-percent drop in heat.¡± Sure enough, the heat in my ear drops to a tolerable glow. ¡°You¡¯re in my optic aug, too?¡± I ask, concerned. SHOCKS hasn¡¯t been my friend in the past; my therapist was SHOCKS, and the last thing I need is the boogeyman in my brain. The Halcyon System riding along is bad enough, but if James sees everything I do, too¡­ ¡°Yes. I¡¯m piggybacking through both of your augs right now. SHOCKS already has a profile for you, so expect some changes in our interactions over the next two or three minutes as I adjust. Please confirm the following questions: First, is your date of birth June 15, 2029?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± That¡¯s pretty basic, and SHOCKS already knows the answer. ¡°You¡¯re two months older than me. I won¡¯t be fifteen until August 23,¡± James says. I¡¯m still waiting for James¡¯s next lie. ¡°Now, I need to ask about something that happened on October 11, 2034. You were¡ª¡° ¡°No.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡ª¡° ¡°You already know exactly what happened. The truth, according to you guys. I don¡¯t need to tell you anything.¡± He¡¯s digging into places I won¡¯t go with Sora. How dare he? ¡°I see.¡± James¡¯s voice shifts slightly, his accent changing to Oxford English. ¡°What do you know about SHOCKS?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the boogeyman.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not wrong,¡± James laughs. Even his laugh has picked up a British-sounding tone. I also feel myself relax as his tone shifts to a businesslike calm. Is the accent a lie? I can¡¯t decide. ¡°Claire, your augs show you in a relatively safe place, but that won¡¯t last. The profile says you don¡¯t trust people. I¡¯m going to ask you to trust me.¡± ¡°No.¡± The word leaves my lips before I realize I¡¯ve said it. ¡°No, I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Claire, you¡¯ve encountered a full-blown reality merge to R-389 and an instant-entry merge with an unknown reality. The rest of Victoria is experiencing merges, and no one else can help you. It¡¯s unlikely you¡¯ll survive the third merge without my help.¡± I sit on the toilet seat, turning the revolver over and over in my hands. James still hasn¡¯t lied. He doesn¡¯t think I can handle it here by myself. And neither do I, to be honest. So why did I go from begging the adult to help me to being unsure about James? Because I know he¡¯ll lie to me? Because I¡¯m thinking now instead of panicking? Or is it just because I¡¯m older than him? I narrow my eyes.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. He¡¯s right. Unfortunately. I can¡¯t find a way to the shelter. Not without help, and he¡¯s who I¡¯ve got. ¡°I can¡¯t trust you. You¡¯ll lie. You all do. But the shelter¡¯s on the wrong side of the school, and I can¡¯t get there. Give me a way through.¡± ¡°Not through, out. You need to break out a window, move past the soccer field, and find the cafeteria. If you go in through those doors, it¡¯s a straight shot to¡ª¡° ¡°The office. Got it.¡± I don¡¯t stand up, but I do let the stall door squeak shut. The bathroom¡¯s perfume-and-cleaning supply smell feels overpowering and oppressive, but it also smells like safety. The thinling couldn¡¯t get me here. I¡¯m half-tempted to stay. But only half. The revolver sits in my lap; I pick it up and hold it in front of my optic aug. ¡°I need to know more about thinlings and this thing.¡± ¡°Thinlings? We don¡¯t have anything by that name from R-389. Did you make that up?¡± ¡°No. Your emergency system told me their name,¡± I say, rolling my eyes. I finally hoist myself out of the stall and walk gingerly back into the hallway. I look carefully at the thinling¡¯s remains. ¡°That¡¯s a thinling,¡± I say. James goes quiet for a minute. A full minute. While he waits, I fidget with my glasses and rub my thumb against the Revolver¡¯s bullet holder. I¡¯ve decided the Revolver is a thing of power, like the Truth or the number Three. It¡¯s from a merge, yes, but all three let me solve equations I couldn¡¯t before. They¡¯re the best kinds of variables; I can put them anywhere and have a good chance of not screwing up the math. They almost seem bigger than the equations, in fact. James clears his throat in my ear. ¡°There are some things I can¡¯t tell you, but we have a record of these. 389-T-13/2I.¡± I blink. ¡°Sorry, what?¡± ¡°That¡¯s its designation. It¡¯s a 389-T-13/2I. That means it¡¯s from Reality 389, it¡¯s the thirteenth type of anomaly we¡¯ve encountered from there, and it¡¯s a Type Two Incomprehensible. Incomprehensibles are weird, but incomprehensibility works both ways with Type Twos like the 389-T-13/2I. It¡¯s a high Anquan-Danger anomaly. Trivial for a trained soldier. Dangerous to you. They don¡¯t tend to have a sense of self, so exposing them to themselves causes problems in their behavior. I see you used a mirror. Good thinking.¡± I reevaluate my partnership with James. Even if I can¡¯t trust him, he knows his stuff, and he¡¯s just a voice in my head. I¡¯ll know what he knows¡ªmost of it, anyway. There¡¯s no way that¡¯s all the information on 389-T-13/whatevers. And I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s more incomprehensible, the monster I shot or that name. It¡¯d take a computer to keep track of a bunch of codes like that. ¡°We¡¯re calling it a thinling,¡± I say. I hear him start to protest and cut him off. ¡°I¡¯m older. What I say goes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s incredibly stupid,¡± James complains in my ear, but I know I¡¯ve got him, so I don¡¯t say anything. After a moment, he relents. ¡°Thinlings, or 389-T-13/2I, are usually the first anomalies through merges to R-389, and they¡¯re easy to deal with. They usually come through in groups, so be ready for more. Now, show me that pistol again.¡± ¡°The Revolver,¡± I say under my breath as I hold it up. James goes almost silent; a keyboard sound clicks rapidly in my ear, but he doesn¡¯t say anything for a while again. I shift the Revolver in my hands, careful not to hit my cut palm, and wait. It takes almost three minutes. I know because I count the seconds after the silence gets awkward. ¡°Claire, that object isn¡¯t in our database. We don¡¯t have a single sample on file.¡± James¡¯s voice has changed. The British accent wavers, and seriousness washes over him, almost identical to the monotone man¡¯s cadence but higher-pitched. ¡°We¡¯re labeling the reality it came from R-573-T. It¡¯s likely the first object we¡¯ve found from it, so it¡¯s important that you don¡¯t use it anymore. We don¡¯t know the possible effects it could have.¡± I close my eyes, count to three, and open them again. The Revolver¡¯s off-white barrel almost glows in the twilight hall, and the faint light glints off the brass bullet holder. I wrap my hand around the grip, resting my finger on the trigger guard. ¡°I¡¯m keeping it. What¡¯s the bullet holder called?¡± ¡°The cylinder. You need to keep it. Don¡¯t lose it, whatever you do. SHOCKS needs that object.¡± I step over the smoldering, stinking remains of the thinling and walk down the hall, the Revolver¡¯s barrel facing the floor. My gut tightens almost painfully as I turn my back to the monster¡ªwhat if it¡¯s not dead? What if I have to run? But there¡¯s no way it¡¯s getting up. I¡¯m okay. I return to Mrs. Helquist¡¯s math room. Splinters and sawdust cover the hall¡¯s tiles; I step over them and into the classroom. Shockingly, the door and a few drops of blood on her carpet are the only signs I¡¯d run through here or that the thinling chased me. Those and the smell rolling in through the shattered window. A warm ground beef and electrical scent that sticks in my nose and makes my stomach heave. I choke back bile and look out the window. And I see the Truth¡ªthat, Revolver or not, James or not, I can¡¯t go out there.
I¡¯m back in the girls¡¯ bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat again. James hasn¡¯t said a word since I turned around. Looking at the soccer field, at what was¡­out there¡­I couldn¡¯t. So I¡¯m back here, where it¡¯s safe. Or at least where it¡¯s safer than that. My stomach is lighter now, but I can¡¯t get the taste of used breakfast out of my mouth¡ªor the smell of warm meat out of my nose. James breaks the silence. ¡°The merge is backward, Claire. We can¡¯t get a recovery and stabilization team into any merged zones near Victoria. You¡¯re effectively inside of R-389 right now, and you¡¯re in possession of an unknown anomalous object. That¡¯s the bad news. The good news is that since you have the object, I was able to negotiate Class Zero clearance for you. Welcome to SHOCKS.¡± I ignore him. He¡¯s still not lying, but nothing he¡¯s saying is helpful right now. ¡°We¡¯ll loop around. It¡¯s a long push through the gym, but the second floor doesn¡¯t have fire doors. They never installed them.¡± I¡¯m not looking forward to traveling through Mr. Roberts¡¯s gym or the lockers, though¡ªnot after what happened to everyone left outside. PE was my biggest nightmare all last year, and it¡¯ll probably be worse now. ¡°Are you sure? The longer it takes to get to the shelter, the worse the merge will get.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure. I can¡¯t.¡± I push myself to my feet and hold the Revolver. ¡°It¡¯ll be safer inside.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that,¡± James says. ¡°R-389¡¯s unreality levels are much higher than R-0¡¯s. The longer this takes, the less stable the world will get.¡± ¡°So the whole world¡¯s turning into a thinling?¡± I ask. ¡°Can we meet in the middle? How about T-Thirteens?¡± James asks. ¡°Not the whole world, but it¡¯ll get worse here soon.¡± I ponder as I stick my head out into the hall. I¡¯m doubling back toward Mrs. Helquist¡¯s room, but instead of going inside, I¡¯m heading through the Social Studies hall to the gym. If I can get through the basketball court and past the ticket booth on the far side, I can get upstairs. If I can get upstairs, I can find the main stairwell, and if I can find that, I can get to the shelter¡¯s door. Simple and linear. Nothing moves in the dim hall. Here and there, white light pours in through the windows; the white, almost fluorescent sun seems to have won its war against the sickly yellow clouds. I hadn¡¯t noticed them from Mrs. Helquist¡¯s window. ¡°Move from classroom door to classroom door. Always check behind you before you move. Keep looking around, and look inside every room you pass. Don¡¯t leave any T-Thirteens behind you. Make sure you have an escape route.¡± He¡¯s trying to give me weeks of training in one long, never-ending lecture, but almost everything bounces off my brain like a tennis ball. I move to the first classroom door, look around quickly, then hobble to the next. The whole time, I¡¯m rerunning my equation. If my math is correct, I¡¯ve balanced it¡ªfor the most part. But James¡¯s constant talking is a new variable, and I haven¡¯t figured out how to solve it yet. It also changes the rest of the problem. James is a wealth of information, but I can¡¯t trust him, and whatever Class Zero clearance is, it¡¯s not high-ranking enough to get the truth out of him. He seems genuine in wanting to help me. I just can¡¯t digest everything he¡¯s still saying about tactics, clearing rooms by myself, self-covering, situational awareness, and a million other soldier-sounding sound bites. I give up and set James aside as a variable. I need to solve the gym first. ¡°Go right,¡± James says a second after I turn right into the Social Studies hall. I roll my eyes and hold my tongue, darting from door to door. The posters are different here: maps of Canada, a student-made British Columbia flag made from magazine clippings, and timelines. I ignore them, checking rooms, hurrying through the dark sections of the hall, and lingering in the pale lights as long as I can. It takes almost five uneventful, heart-pounding minutes to arrive at the gym¡¯s doors. Mr. Roberts is inside. Or maybe it¡¯s something that used to be Mr. Roberts. Or something lying about being Mr. Roberts. Much like the thinling¡ªI refuse to call it a T-Thirteen¡ªhis appearance shimmers and changes, but whether his arms bulge like a bodybuilder¡¯s, his legs split into four bone-white insect legs, or his fingers rattle and clatter like chains on the floor, it¡¯s still him¡ªjust¡­different hims. Looking at him makes me feel like I¡¯m spinning or falling¡ªor both. Either way, he stands under the basketball hoop in his usual place, overseeing an invisible PE class. That¡¯s a problem. The stairs are on the far side. I can see them from here, but I don¡¯t think I can get across the gym without Mr. Roberts seeing me. My hand¡¯s on the door when James interrupts. ¡°This is a Type Three Incomprehensible, Claire.¡± ¡°He¡¯s Mr. Roberts.¡± Even though it¡¯s not quite my PE teacher, it¡¯s almost right most of the time. ¡°No, it¡¯s a Type Three Incomprehensible. I¡¯m not sure which classification, but all Incomprehensibles are mind-affecting anomalies. What do you see?¡± I describe it, and I can almost hear James shaking his head. He types for a moment. ¡°It¡¯ll get worse the closer you get. I¡¯m overlaying an image over it. Use your aug, close your other eye, and pay attention to the overlay, not what¡¯s behind it. And hurry. I had to disable my patch and overclock your aug.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I whisper, my hand still on the door. Everything James has told me is the truth, but it¡¯s not the capital-T truth. I won¡¯t find that in what some boy miles away keeps saying in my ear. I push the door open and run inside. Mr. Roberts turns and screams/roars. This close, he¡¯s not much different than the thinling. I squeeze my right eye closed, and he fades into the background, replaced by a jet-black cut-out exactly his shape. As the black cut-out starts running toward me, Mr. Roberts¡¯s long fingernails and split legs occasionally weave out from behind the blackness. Those bits give me vertigo. I level the Revolver and fire. The shot hits the shadowy overlay, which keeps coming. I pull the trigger again, but nothing happens. ¡°Run, Claire!¡± James all but screams in my ear. I sprint for the stairs, shoes sticking slightly to the wooden floor. What did I step in that makes them stick? It feels like I¡¯m running through syrup. I look at Mr. Roberts. He¡¯s closing the gap quickly, and the black overlay seems to be breaking down. His four insect legs propel him toward me across the tar-like basketball court, and his fingernails whip back and forth like chains¡ªchains with spikes on the ends. My aug¡¯s already overheating, a roaring inferno in my skull that doesn¡¯t stop. The floor gets stickier and stickier until I¡¯m all but swimming through the gym. Mr. Roberts reaches me. The overlay disappears, fading to reveal something that¡¯s both perfectly my PE teacher and something completely alien. {Skill Learned: Endurance 1} {Stability 4/10} My head swims, and my mouth fills with bile again. I throw myself toward the stairwell, and the sticky feeling disappears when I crash into the first step. I scramble up the stairs, away from the thing that isn¡¯t quite Mr. Roberts. Three steps. Four. I trip, roll on the stairs, and look back, both eyes open. The Mr. Roberts thing screams/roars from below the bottom step. The Revolver¡¯s bullet, the one lined up with the barrel, glows and illuminates his face. And in that moment, just before I scream and turn and crawl up the remaining stairs, I see the Truth. It¡¯s not him. But it was. Chapter Five The Truth Club only has three members. The equation goes like this: if X is the percentage chance of someone in a secret group talking, as Y¡ªthe number of people in the group¡ªgets bigger, X approaches 100. X is your acceptable risk of a blabbermouth. You can reduce X by trusting only trustworthy people, swearing everyone to secrecy, or eliminating members. That last one¡¯s not realistic. It¡¯d be nice sometimes, though. But somewhere between one and seven is the sweet spot where the Truth Club¡¯s members won¡¯t talk. The math gets funky. I didn¡¯t believe it the first time I solved it, but it happens every time I run the numbers. Faith, Hope, Charity. Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato. Snap, Crackle, Pop. Claire, Sora, Keith.
Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 12:45 PM - - - - - {Stability 7/10} {Skill Acquired: Physical Anomaly Resistance 1} The Halcyon System¡¯s telling me I¡¯ve learned a skill. I don¡¯t have the energy to care, though. I collapse onto the wooden benches in the gym¡¯s second-floor spectator seating, sucking in air and rubbing my burning right eye. Tears run down my face: tears of pain, tears of anger. I was wrong. So wrong. James did lie to me. ¡°That is Mr. Roberts.¡± My teeth grind together as I watch the thing that isn¡¯t quite Mr. Roberts return slowly to the bleachers. He stands on them, looking almost exactly like he always does when he puts me through another set of laps or makes me re-do my push-ups because I¡¯m not going low enough. It¡¯s an almost perfect copy, but not quite. ¡°It¡¯s not Mr. Roberts,¡± James says in my ear, and in that moment, I hate him. He ignores my glare¡ªmaybe he doesn¡¯t even know I¡¯m giving him the stink-eye¡ªand keeps talking. ¡°Mr. Roberts ceased to exist due to overexposure to R-389¡¯s merge with R-0. Think of what you¡¯re looking at as a photocopy turned upside down, set at an angle, and recopied. SHOCKS is working on identifying the specifics for this Type Three Incomprehensible, but all you need to know is that it¡¯s not Mr. Roberts.¡± I push down my anger; it seethes and bubbles, but it¡¯s not helpful right now. I understand what James is doing. He¡¯s giving me a lie to tell myself to make the thing that isn¡¯t quite Mr. Roberts make sense in my mind. I won¡¯t use it, though, because that thing was him. So, James¡¯s lie? It¡¯s a friendly, protective lie. He doesn¡¯t mean to hurt me with it. But it¡¯s still a lie. I¡¯ll remember that it¡¯s happened, and it¡¯s not forgivable. James: Three¡ªor maybe four? Mrs. Helquist: Zero. Alice: Too many to count. But when I open my mouth, it¡¯s not to argue. ¡°He¡¯s not coming up here, right?¡± My voice is shaky and pained, but I ask it without stumbling. ¡°T-3 Incomps typically mimic their hosts¡¯ behavioral patterns, so you¡¯d know more than me.¡± I relax. Mr. Roberts never chased students who walked out of PE. I know; I¡¯ve done it enough times to be sure. Still, the revolver feels warm in my sweaty hands. The salt stings my cut. ¡°Then I¡¯m safe up here?¡± I ask. ¡°No. You¡¯re safe in the shelter,¡± James replies. My heart drops, but it¡¯s the truth. ¡°Inside¡¯s better than outside, but you need to get moving. R-389¡¯s unreality level is going to wear at R-0. Your area¡¯s third merge point is still out there as well.¡± I don¡¯t have a reply, so I pick myself up and keep moving. The upstairs is only eight classrooms long¡ªfour sets of two, with a bathroom and water fountain between the second and third sets. The other wall is empty except for a couple hundred lockers. But it¡¯s also the Language Arts wing, which I¡¯ve always hated. Language Arts doesn¡¯t have rules; it has poetry instead. This wing¡¯s ¡®unreality level¡¯ is probably higher than the rest of the school, except for the theater club. Those kids are weird. I step out into the long hallway, and the moment I do, my ears start ringing. ¡°Let me filter that out. Expect an increase in heat,¡± James starts to say, but I interrupt him. ¡°No. Leave it. It¡¯s a good warning, and it¡¯ll just overheat.¡± James hesitates. He knows something¡¯s up, but if he won¡¯t be honest with me, I won¡¯t be honest with him. Besides, not telling him about the whispering I hear isn¡¯t a lie. It¡¯s just not telling him, right? Then he clicks his tongue in my ear. That¡¯s going to get annoying fast. ¡°Understood.¡± His voice is terse and clipped, like he¡¯s working on something else at the same time as he talks to me. I walk down the hall. As I approach the first doors, James speaks again. He¡¯s still short. ¡°Claire, check the rooms on your left.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I¡¯m tempted to ignore him. ¡°SHOCKS wants additional data on R-389, and the school¡¯s blueprints show wide windows. When you¡¯ve cleared the first room, take a good look outside. Go quickly, though.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m a science experiment, then?¡± ¡°No.¡± Before I can call him on that lie, he walks it back. ¡°Kind of. You¡¯re our only eyes inside the R-389 merge. Be quick.¡± His mic goes dead in my ear like he¡¯s muted it. I push into Room Two-Oh-One, my freshman Language Arts class, with Mrs. Lightsen. She doesn¡¯t call it two hundred and one like a normal person: Two-Oh-One or nothing. Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room is probably why the Language Arts wing¡¯s ¡®unreality levels¡¯ are so high. All four walls in her room are different colors: green, pink, navy blue, and yellow. Instead of motivational posters or guides to writing a book report or something, you know, helpful, she¡¯s decorated the walls with mirrors and tree faces. Yes, tree faces¡ªthe plastic or ceramic kind you hammer into a tree¡¯s bark so it looks like some old tree man. There aren¡¯t any desks, just a pile of beanbags and a weird three-tiered stage you can sit on, and nothing is in a clean, straight line. Room Two-Oh-One is the opposite of Mrs. Helquist¡¯s math room. It¡¯s so far from being honest that it makes my skin crawl. And the alien twilight filtering in through her wide windows doesn¡¯t help, either. James still isn¡¯t back. As mad as I am at him for lying, It¡¯d be nice to have someone watching my back in the haunted, fairy-tale realm that¡¯s Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room, but he¡¯s not here, and there¡¯s no one else. The windows are just across the fake-fur bear rug¡ªtwice the size of a real bear¡ªthat covers the floor, so I quickly look around, confirm there are no thinlings or things that aren¡¯t quite Mrs. Lightsen, and dash for the window. Nothing jumps out to eat me. The bear rug stays dead¡ªand also fake. And I peer out at the yellow clouds, seeing for the first time that they¡¯ve descended, forming walls of fog that cover the main road, the playground, and half of the soccer field, as well as every view of the ocean or, far away, the Olympic Mountains. Despite the clouds, the white sun¡¯s faint light doesn¡¯t change; it stays pale, without a hint of mustard tint. And outside, just inside the cloud wall, are thinlings. A dozen, maybe more. They move from one¡­lumpy blob on the ground to another. I¡¯m not lying to myself about what they are, I¡¯m just refusing to look at them. The ringing in my ears stops. Either the last thinning didn¡¯t merge, it¡¯s happening right now, or it was fast like the Revolver. My mind rockets to the equation, and I try balancing it for each possibility, but the tree faces stare at me, and I can¡¯t do math in these conditions. Too many variables, not enough¡ªStolen story; please report. ¡°Got it,¡± James says suddenly, and I jump. I hadn¡¯t heard his mic turn back on. ¡°Head back to the hall and check the next classroom.¡± He¡¯s still terse¡ªstill impersonal and monotone. Something¡¯s changed wherever he is, I decide. When my heart stops pounding, I walk quickly back to the hall. I¡¯m happy to leave Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room behind.
I push open the next door, and the out-of-control chaos of Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s classroom greets me again. {Stability: 6/10} ¡°What the fuck?¡± I say. Now that I¡¯m not panicking and fighting for my life, I remember that I¡¯m not supposed to swear until I¡¯m sixteen. Dad¡¯s going to kill me if he finds out. Then again, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m supposed to be firing handguns in West End High, and that seems like a bigger problem. ¡°One moment,¡± James says. I hear keys clicking. ¡°Got it. You¡¯re in a spatial anomaly. Turn around and keep moving down the hall. Doublings are common, but they don¡¯t usually duplicate living beings, so you should be fine.¡± I don¡¯t feel fine. I can hear something moving near the bean bag pile. No. Under the bean bag pile. It¡¯s not the whispers I¡¯ve been hearing, though those don¡¯t stop either. Bean bags start shifting, and I level the Revolver at them as first one, then a second, then more slide off the pile in a whispering shhhh sound. ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± I say, not expecting the thinling or the thing that¡¯s not quite Mrs. Lightsen to listen. It stops. Then it says, ¡°Claire?¡± in a voice that rises with hope and cracks with fear but still sounds familiar. It takes me a minute to place it. Then it hits me. ¡°Keith?¡± The rest of the beanbags surge off the pile in a tidal wave of pellets and canvas that only slightly dwarfs the heavyset kid beneath them. Keith is the third member of the Truth Club, and he wasn¡¯t supposed to be on campus today. It¡¯s Saturday, and he doesn¡¯t have any older siblings. ¡°Claire, don¡¯t let him in close,¡± James says. I keep the Revolver trained on him. ¡°What¡¯s the first Truth you shared?¡± I ask. ¡°I can¡¯t¡­I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± Keith says. His shaggy, curly brown hair half-covers his eyes, but they look confused. ¡°The first rule we made was that we can¡¯t share Truths outside the club.¡± James squawks something in my ear, a warning to stay back, but Keith''s passed my test as far as I¡¯m concerned. Besides, he offers something James never can. I rush him. He manages to take one step back before my arms wrap around him in a massive bear hug. I¡¯ve never hugged him before¡ªwe don¡¯t do that kind of thing in Truth Club, and he and I aren¡¯t good friends outside of it, not really¡ªbut he¡¯s a person, not a thing that¡¯s not quite Keith, and that¡¯s good enough for me right now. He returns my hug in that awkward, Keith-like way he does everything. Sora and I didn¡¯t invite him to the Truth Club because he¡¯s our closest friend. We picked him because, like us, he¡¯s an outcast¡ªan ¡®other¡¯¡ªand because he proved he knows the value of a good secret in eighth grade. I cough. My throat still feels raw, and my lungs still hurt from getting my breath knocked out of me and screaming. ¡°What are you doing here, Keith?¡± James and Keith talk at the same time. ¡°Claire, you need to get moving. R-0 is collapsing, and the shelter has a working stabilizer,¡± James says. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a commencement, and I wanted to see what it was all about. Then, when the alert came in, I got separated just after the main door. Something came inside and chased me upstairs, and I hid in Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. She had the most hiding places, and I picked the bean bags. I thought you were it until you started talking. Whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t talk.¡± I ignore James again. He¡¯s right; we can¡¯t stay here. But I¡¯m still mad at him for lying. ¡°It¡¯s probably a thinling. Did it give you a headache when you looked at it?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Keith mumbles on and on about how he couldn¡¯t tell what it looked like and how he ran, but it stalked him and sawed through doors, and then it couldn¡¯t get inside Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. I half-listen until the last bit. ¡°It¡¯s the mirrors,¡± I say knowingly. ¡°We¡¯re¡­I¡¯m going to the shelter. If you stay close, I¡¯ll try to keep you safe.¡± Keith stares at the Revolver in my hand, then nods slowly. ¡°It¡¯s better than up here. I already feel weird. Where¡¯d you get that? How do you know so much about all of this?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tell him,¡± James says. The professional, clipped tone is still there, but I hear something else. ¡°SHOCKS is already overwhelmed with containment, and cleaning up this mess will be hard enough without the Service¡¯s name getting tied to everything.¡± I hesitate. Why does he feel okay about telling me, then? Then I gesture to the air. ¡°I¡¯ve got a friend telling me what I need to know, and this isn¡¯t my first rodeo.¡± I think about telling Keith the Truth I made the club for, but using it in service to deception feels wrong, so I bite my tongue. I¡¯m not a liar, though. Nothing I¡¯ve said is a lie. We hurry back to the hall¡ªI go first, with Keith trying to hide behind me. I¡¯m not a slim girl, but even so, he¡¯s far too big, and the effect feels comedic, not stealthy. I hurry to the next classroom over. ¡°Check it,¡± James says. I open the door, and the far-too-familiar tree faces and technicolor walls of Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room greet me a third time.
¡®This just got a lot more complicated,¡± James says. After Keith¡¯s initial shocked babbling, he and I fall into an uneasy silence. He¡¯s propped up against the lockers while I stand in the middle of the hall, slowly spinning my head to watch the ten classroom doors, two bathrooms, and each end of the long hallway. There¡¯s an extra set of rooms ahead of us, so James stopped us here while he figures out what¡¯s going on. ¡°Don¡¯t tell your friend any of this. He¡¯s not cleared. You are. This is a Type One Spatial Anomaly. They¡¯re replicators. They find a pattern and repeat it until something stops them. That¡¯s bad for us. Really bad. So here are your choices. You can keep doing what you¡¯re doing¡ªclearing the rooms carefully but moving purposefully. If you¡¯re quick enough, you¡¯ll get ahead of the anomaly and reach the far side. But I¡¯d give it a 53% chance of the anomaly growing faster than you can clear rooms.¡± He keeps talking, not giving me a chance to interrupt. ¡°Or you can retreat, fight or run past the Type Three Incomp¡ª¡° ¡°Mr. Roberts,¡± I whisper. Keith looks at me, and I shake my head. He doesn¡¯t get the hint. ¡°What about Mr. Roberts?¡± ¡°In a minute,¡± I hiss. ¡°¡ªthe window like I suggested and find a way to the cafeteria that way. Based on what you¡¯ve seen, you¡¯ve got a 76.4% chance of making it, but your friend¡¯s only got a 32% chance. He¡¯s not armed, and you¡¯ve got a remarkably high reality level in your profile. And finally, you can make a run for it. Don¡¯t check the rooms, don¡¯t cover your backs, just run for the far side of the hall. I don¡¯t know the odds on that one, but your friend said there was a Type Two Incomprehensible up here, so it has risks. The more of that classroom, though, the less risky it¡¯ll be because of her mirrors.¡± I wait until he¡¯s finished talking. Then I close my eyes for a moment and run my own equation. The new variables seem impossible to solve for, especially his slip about my profile. How can he have information on my ¡®reality level?¡¯ I table that for now, but I¡¯m coming back to it later. Even if I wanted to get past the thing that¡¯s not quite Mr. Roberts, leave Mrs. Helquist¡¯s room, and make a break for it across the soccer field, I¡¯ve got Keith now. I can¡¯t¡ª ¡°Claire, the Type One Spatial won¡¯t wait for you. Make a choice.¡± James is right. I clear my throat and stick out my hand. ¡°We¡¯re running down the hall. Don¡¯t waste your time looking in the rooms. They¡¯re probably all Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s. Get to the stairs, get down them, and then we¡¯ll be at the shelter.¡± ¡°What about the¡ª¡° I interrupt him. ¡°We¡¯re running. If something tries to get us, we run. That¡¯s the only plan I¡¯ve got. Let¡¯s go.¡± He clasps his hand in mine, and I hiss in pain as his grip tightens around my paper towel bandage. I can feel it start bleeding again, but we¡¯re not stopping at the second-floor bathroom to fix it. We start running. I¡¯m not feeling great, and Keith didn¡¯t work any harder than me in gym class. It¡¯s not a mad dash so much as a quick jog for both of us. We pass Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room, and I risk a quick peek to see if there are any thinlings inside. It¡¯s empty, so I glance next door inside Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. It¡¯s also empty. I don¡¯t check the door after that one, but I catch a glimpse of a tree face. Then we¡¯re to the four bathrooms¡ªtwo girls¡¯ and two boys¡¯ rooms. The Type One Spatial Anomaly adds to my migraine, which is back with a vengeance. I want a cigarette. We¡¯ve been running for ages. For an eternity. For twenty seconds. I stop Keith so we can breathe. When I first came up the stairs, there were eight rooms. We¡¯ve passed six rooms, counting Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s first room and Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room where I found Keith. There are still six rooms ahead of us; I¡¯m sure at least two will be Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. One breath. Two breaths. {Skill Learned: Endurance 2} Whether it¡¯s the breaths or the message, I feel a little better. There¡¯s no way the Halcyon System can know everything, though¡ªis there? I force the thought out of my head while Keith pushes himself back to standing, hands on his knees. Later. I¡¯ll deal with it later. We keep running. We pass Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room for the seventh time. Mirrors and tree faces peer out of the safety glass window at us. Then we¡¯re past it, and the next room¡¯s not Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s drug-induced hallucination of a classroom. I notice its door is ajar as my feet pound the linoleum faux-tiles. Desks sit in squares¡ªgroups of four, the standard my whole school career. It¡¯s almost a normal classroom. But not quite. As we pass the room, something surges toward us. I don¡¯t have a mirror, so I can¡¯t see the Truth, but it flickers and shimmers between animal/monster/machine. A thinling¡ªthe one Keith ran from, maybe? ¡°James, does the¡­can this spatial copy living things?!¡± I shout breathlessly as the thinling pushes/shoves/jams the classroom door open. He¡¯d said something about it earlier, but I couldn¡¯t remember what. ¡°Type One Spatial Anomalies don¡¯t usually, but there¡¯s no¡ª¡° ¡°Good enough!¡± I scream at the boy in my aural aug. Then I yell at Keith. ¡°Keep running!¡± Chapter Six Alice liked to scare me when we were kids. She told me once he¡¯s after you, the boogeyman never really leaves you alone. She¡¯s right. Sometimes, I feel like I¡¯m being watched. ¡°James is in your head, duh,¡± you¡¯re probably thinking, but that doesn¡¯t explain the playground when I was seven, or the bus stop twice a month all of seventh and eighth grade, or the occasional flashes outside our basic living apartment whenever I make ramen and peanut-butter apple slices for dinner. And the scariest part about Alice¡¯s story? I know the boogeymen saw me when I was five, during my first merge. And even though they vanish for a while, I know they¡¯ve never stopped watching. James let that cat out of the bag.
Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 23, 2043, 12:57 PM - - - - - As Keith and I turn the corner and half-run and half-fall down the stairs, I breathe a sigh of relief. It¡¯s cut off by my burning lungs screaming for air and by the thinling right behind us. I feel its breath/stench/exhaust on the back of my neck. Its claws/jaws/saws scream behind me, and I push Keith. He falls onto the landing, and the force of the shove spins me around. The closest mirror is in the bathroom across from the office. I can¡¯t see the thinling for sure. I¡¯ll only get one shot. The Revolver belches flame, and the thinling slams into me a moment later. I¡¯m crushed between its weight and the landing; its gaping wound burns against my chest. I don¡¯t have time to start wriggling my way out from under it, though. Keith grunts and pulls on the monster¡¯s body. ¡°Come on,move, you asshole,¡± he mutters, and the thinling shifts. He holds out his hand, and I gratefully clasp his wrist and let him pull me up. ¡°Thanks, Keith. Let¡¯s keep going.¡± He doesn¡¯t answer for a moment. Instead, he stares at the thinling, transfixed. I grab his hand and keep going down the stairs, dragging him along. ¡°I didn¡¯t know¡­they look like that?¡± He mumbles as we walk. ¡°Yeah.¡± I glance back at it. Its six-legged frame and lamprey mouth give me the shivers, but the hole through its body where I¡¯ve shot it still glows faintly red inside. ¡°They mimic other things, and they hunt people. I saw like twelve of them outside. The thinning¡ª¡° James clears his throat. ¡°Claire, don¡¯t talk to him.¡± ¡°¡ªThe thinning they came out of was under the bleachers, in the middle of the Truth Club circle,¡± I finish, ignoring the voice in my head. The whispers I¡¯ve been hearing are almost as loud as James¡¯s, so it¡¯s easy to pretend he¡¯s just another indistinguishable hissing sound. ¡°Now come on. We¡¯re close.¡± ¡°You¡¯re making my job harder,¡± James complains. ¡°At least promise me that once you¡¯re in the shelter, you won¡¯t show anyone Object 573-V-1/1O.¡± ¡°Show them what?¡± I ask. Keith looks at me, and I point at my ear. ¡°I told you someone was talking to me through my augs. I wouldn¡¯t lie to you.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Keith says. His face is flushed and sweaty, and he pulls his hand from mine. ¡°So, once we¡¯re at the shelter, then what?¡± ¡°The gun. The unregistered, unclassified, untested anomaly you¡¯re carrying around,¡± James says. He sounds exasperated. Maybe I¡¯ve been too hard on him for lying to me. ¡°It¡¯ll be a real mess for SHOCKS if too many people see it.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I say. ¡°When we get to the shelter, we¡¯ll find Sora and Alice and Dad, and we¡¯ll be safe. It¡¯s got a URA inside. Uh, that¡¯s a reality anchor. It¡¯s supposed to fix stuff like this. Don¡¯t ask how I know.¡± Keith¡¯s face doesn¡¯t look less confused at my answer. I don¡¯t roll my eyes, though I want to. I¡¯m not supposed to know about Universal Reality Anchors, and I don¡¯t feel like explaining why I do. Not while James is listening. Some Truths shouldn¡¯t be aired outside of Truth Club. West End High¡¯s main hall stretches from the cafeteria to the back door that leads to the shop classes and the Canada¡¯s Young Farmer¡¯s Forum building, even though Alice wasn¡¯t in elementary school the last time we had CYFF classes here. Unlike the math and science or social studies wings, this one¡¯s poster-free. Instead, trophy cases from West End¡¯s super-illustrious sports history line the walls between two massive double doors that lead to the cafeteria. And on the other side, with big glass windows and speakers so the secretaries don¡¯t have to actually smell parents or students, is the main office. I¡¯ve been inside of it twice. The first time was for smoking under the bleachers while I waited for Alice to finish soccer practice, and the second was to say something on the morning announcements. Assistant Principal Stephenson believes in ¡®empowering at-risk students¡¯ or something, and apparently, she thinks talking on the intercom is uplifting or life-changing. Keith and I pass the cafeteria¡¯s double doors and the office¡¯s windows. It¡¯s dark inside, and the whispering is almost deafening now; whatever¡¯s speaking the almost-understandable, soft words is in there. But I don¡¯t need to learn the Truth about whatever¡¯s haunting the office. We arrive at the locked security door at the end of the hall. Keith and I press thumbs against the thumb scanner, let the optic aug scanner verify our augs, and wait as the door grinds open. The stairs down to West End¡¯s shelter open before us like a creature¡¯s maw, lit by LEDs that cast the whole thing a greenish-yellow tint. Something shimmers for a moment at the stairs¡¯ bottom. We head down. Keith takes the stairs two at a time, descending into the shelter¡¯s abyss. I tuck the Revolver in my cargo pants pocket and follow him, heart pounding. We¡¯ve made it. I¡¯ve made it. Keith reaches the second door, far below, and puts his hand on the scanner. I hit the shimmer at the bottom of the stairs and stop like the first thinling did when it tried to cross the mirror. I can¡¯t get in.
I try again, but there¡¯s nothing¡ªnothing but a hum that grows louder the more I push and the shimmer, which sparks with all the colors of the rainbow as I try to move past it. My heart won¡¯t stop pounding a machine-gun beat like a bass drum in my ears that accompanies the hum and the whispers and drowns out Keith¡¯s shouted question, leaving me to stare stupidly at his face as I try to understand why I can¡¯t get inside. I try one more time. Nothing. No give. It¡¯s like pushing against a brick wall. And just like that, I¡¯m right back in the math and science girls¡¯ bathroom, leaning against the wall and wrapping my hand with paper towels. I¡¯m not getting out of this. I¡¯m stuck, and there¡¯s nothing I can do about it. ¡°Hang on, Claire. I¡¯m looking up typical shelter security measures to see what¡¯s going on,¡± James says in my ear as if it¡¯s so easy to hang on¡ªto not lose it. A moment later, he speaks again. ¡°You need to put Object 573-V-1/1O down. Leave it in the hall and try moving through. Most shelters use an anomaly-detection system to detect and quarantine incoming anomalies. Object 573-V-1/1O is triggering that system.¡± Put down the Revolver. Leave it here. I shudder as a breath¡ªnot the shallow, panicked breaths I¡¯ve been taking, but a full, deep breath¡ªescapes my mouth. I can do that. I set it down and step through the barrier. Or I try to. It still won¡¯t give. ¡°What¡¯s going on, James?¡± I ask as Keith looks at me, that same confused expression on his face again. ¡°I think I know¡­Claire,¡± James says. ¡°But you¡¯re not cleared to know the answer. The version you¡¯re cleared for is¡ª¡° ¡°Don¡¯t lie,¡± I whisper hoarsely. I¡¯m too quiet for him to hear, but he does anyway. ¡°¡ªalright. I can¡¯t explain it to you, but I¡¯m working on an alternative way out. For now, you need to leave the shelter entrance. The outside door won¡¯t shut unless everyone inside¡¯s supposed to be inside, and,¡± James pauses. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be.¡± {Truth Learned: West End High 1} {Active Skill Learned: Bullet Time} {Stability 4/10} The truth hits me like a sledgehammer, enough that I don¡¯t bother experimenting with my Active Skill. My Anomalous Bond with the Revolver¡ªthat¡¯s why I can¡¯t get in. The anchor inside, or whatever¡¯s protecting the shelter, must see me as one with my gun. I can¡¯t leave it, either. Whatever¡¯s going on here, the Revolver must be at its core¡­and so am I now. I realize I haven¡¯t been breathing, suck in air in a ragged gasp, and turn to Keith. ¡°I¡­I can¡¯t get in. I can¡¯t."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. He looks at me for a moment, then starts walking back toward me, away from the door. Away from safety. His face is ashen¡ªI imagine it¡¯s a reflection of mine¡ªbut he sets his jaw. ¡°Then we¡¯ll find a different way. I¡¯m not leaving you.¡± Three people in my life have never lied to me. Mrs. Helquist is one. Sora¡¯s another. And Keith is the third. If he says he¡¯s coming with me, he¡¯s coming with me. But then James talks in my ear. ¡°Your friend¡¯s five minutes from becoming a Type Three Incomprehensible. His reality levels are too low to be outside of a shelter. You can¡¯t let him come with you¡ªnot if you want him to stay him.¡± I nod. My hand wraps around the Revolver¡¯s grip, and I start walking away. ¡°You can¡¯t come with,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not leav¡ª¡° ¡°Yes, you are. I¡¯ve got another option. It¡¯s something I can do, but you can¡¯t.¡± The lie comes easily but doesn¡¯t stop Keith from walking toward me. I point the Revolver his way. ¡°Listen. The voice in my aug says if you come with, you¡¯re gonna turn into a monster, so you have to stay.¡± He freezes, and I back up the stairs until I¡¯m at the door. I push on it. It slides closed, and I get one last look at Keith¡¯s hurt, pale face. Does he know I¡¯ve lied to him? Does it matter? No. I decide it doesn¡¯t. I haven¡¯t lied to him. Just because James hasn¡¯t told me what to do doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t have a way out. So I¡¯m being honest. Still, I lean my ear against the sealed shelter door until I can¡¯t hear anything moving inside. ¡°James, what¡¯s your plan? Give me something, please.¡± ¡°Okay, we¡¯ve got a procedure for persistent, reality-changing merges. You have about an hour before the recovery and stabilization team finishes setting up outside. They¡¯ll breach, try to find the Universal Reality Anchor, and reactivate it if it¡¯s down or boost it if it¡¯s weak. In this case, we have you inside, and I know the URA is off. If you can turn it on, that¡¯ll let the recovery and stabilization team in early, and they can boost it to end the merge.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I stand up. My muscles scream; it¡¯s been a long day already, and it¡¯s not even 1:30 yet. ¡°What about just waiting in the shelter hall?¡± ¡°You need to be inside the barrier to be protected. Since you can¡¯t get in, you¡¯ll get worn down, and it¡¯s unlikely you¡¯ll make it more than forty-five minutes before you become an Incomp,¡± James says. There¡¯s something there that¡¯s not true. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡± ¡°Nothing I can tell you,¡± James says smoothly. ¡°If you¡¯re going to turn on the URA, you¡¯ll need to go through the office. Based on the school¡¯s blueprints and the hall above us, that could be a challenge. The spatial anomaly merge likely started in there. Are you familiar with the inside of the office?¡± I¡¯m seething too much to hear his question, and the whispers are too loud, so he repeats it. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s monitoring my heartbeat or something, so he knows I¡¯m upset. But he doesn¡¯t apologize. He asks a third time, and I snap. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve been in the office before. Twice. Why do you care?¡± ¡°The layout in there has probably changed, so get ready to be confused. And because something inside is causing the duplication you saw earlier. You may need to stop that to find the URA.¡±
The whispers only increase in volume as I step down the hall and look into the office for the first time. Its left wall overlooks the school¡¯s entrance with tall glass windows so the secretaries can see who¡¯s coming long before they get there¡ªa nod to school safety or something. There are only two of them, plus the one in the principal¡¯s office in the back. So when I peer in and see twelve, I groan. The windows aren¡¯t all that¡¯s been replicated. The whole room is a maze of secretaries¡¯ desks, computers, and open doors to the principal¡¯s, vice principal¡¯s, and three counselors¡¯ offices. There¡¯s only supposed to be one counselor¡¯s office. The doors aren¡¯t supposed to be open. I know for a fact the staff locks everything up. But then again, the teachers all lock their doors, too. The duplication must be responsible for it. ¡°Hurry up. It¡¯s only going to get worse in there the longer you wait,¡± James says over the whispers. He¡¯s realized I can¡¯t hear him, and his volume has increased to match, but with it comes a tinny sound, probably my sub-par aug. I open the door and duck inside. The moment I do, the whispers stop. Instead, a long, drawn-out scream echoes through the overly-large office. It goes on and on, and I hear it even though my hands are pressed to my ears. Then, as suddenly as it starts, it stops, leaving silence behind. ¡°Did you hear that, James?¡± ¡°Hear what?¡± ¡°¡­Nothing. Nevermind.¡± James is keeping secrets from me, so turnaround is fair play. ¡°Go for the principal¡¯s office first,¡± James says. ¡°The anchor¡¯s supposed to be in there.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°The blueprints say so. The real blueprints, not the ones they give students for engineering and architecture math assignments. If it¡¯s there, you can be safe in five minutes. If not, we¡¯ll have to work harder.¡± I reach for the door handle. I take a deep breath, hold the revolver at the ready, and jerk the door open. Something lunges at me from above, and I scream and pull the Revolver¡¯s trigger. Fire rips from the gun¡¯s barrel and across my body, and I squeeze my eyes shut, half-expecting that I¡¯ve missed and that a horribly-wrinkled, tentacly monster is about to choke me to death or something. ¡°You got it,¡± James says. I open my eyes. ¡°Fuck.¡± Dad will have to forgive me, and the tree face that used to hang over the door isn¡¯t in any shape to complain about language. I¡¯m back in Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. A quartet of thin, spindly legs curl up under the tree face, just like a spider that¡¯s been squished. I look at the walls. At the dozens of tree faces, all of which creep toward me. And I slam the door shut. It clicks locked. I didn¡¯t think Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room could get worse, but somehow, even replicated spaces aren¡¯t as bad as whatever¡¯s happening in there. I take a second to shake off the heebie-jeebies¡ªthat¡¯s entirely too many legs for a tree face¡ªthen reach for the assistant principal¡¯s door. But something tickles the back of my neck, and instead, I take three more steps past the endlessly long counter and the dozens of copy machines, and I open the counselors¡¯ office door. Neither Mr. White nor Ms. Vorhese tell the truth, and knowing my luck, the Universal Reality Anchor is through the door on their office¡¯s far side. That¡¯s a problem because their office has at least three hundred feet of repeating opened doors, each with two work desks and a round table. And at the far side is¡­something. {Stability: 3/10} It¡¯s hard to tell what it is through the long line of half-open doors, but it¡¯s about six feet tall. It¡¯s a brassy metal color, but I can¡¯t see more from this far away. I zoom in with my optic aug, wincing as it heats up. Its top looks like a gyroscope, with a bunch of rings designed to spin around and dozens of lightbulbs lining each ring. A control panel covers one side. ¡°That¡¯s it. Get going,¡± James says. He doesn¡¯t need to tell me twice. I start running. But the moment I do, the whispering begins again. It¡¯s still not words. In fact, I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s supposed to be words. But one of them sounds like one. It sounds a little like ¡®duck.¡¯ I don¡¯t duck. I see a Blur in space from the corner of my eye. Then it hits me. It knocks me to the ground, and I¡¯m rolling under the circular table in the second counselors¡¯ office. For a moment, I keep running, though, before I watch myself fall apart. The other me vanishes in a cloud of dust, and Mom¡¯s dress and my cargo pants crumple to the floor in between two copies of the counselors¡¯ offices. They don¡¯t disappear, though. I try not to vomit as I stare at the mud-spattered, red and white dress and the baggy cargo pants where I¡¯ve just disappeared. Am I the real Claire, or was that? If I¡¯m not real, which dress is my mom¡¯s? Dad will kill me if I bring home the wrong one. I start tearing up on the floor. {Stability: 2/10} ¡°Claire, focus.¡± James has a description almost immediately. ¡°That¡¯s the cause of the spatial anomaly. It looks like a Type One. It duplicates everything but living matter. Based on what I¡¯ve seen, Object 573-V-1/1O won¡¯t solve it.¡± I lower the gun¡ªI hadn¡¯t realized, but I¡¯d leveled it at the wall where the blur came from. The hit has left me shaking, like on the bathroom floor. ¡°So what do I do?¡± ¡°Run, try to figure out the timing, and dodge. Type One spatials aren¡¯t alive. It¡¯s following a pattern.¡± I nod. Then I stay under the table, running a new equation. It¡¯s been fifteen¡ªno, eighteen¡ªseconds since the Type One passed. It¡¯ll take me at least a minute to cross the echoed counselors¡¯ offices if I take cover every time, which means¡ª The anomaly whooshes back around. Twenty-three seconds. ¡ªI need to hide three times unless I want four copies of Mom¡¯s dress to sort through. I¡¯m already running, counting in my head as I duck through one door after another, clambering over tables and hoping my count is right. Three. Two. I throw myself to the floor under the round table. The Type One Spatial Anomaly¡ªtoo long, too SHOCKSish¡ªthe Blur whooshes overhead. I pop back up and keep running. Behind me, something crashes. I take three seconds to look back. I wish I hadn¡¯t. The first counselor¡¯s office is filled with tree faces. The desks and tables go under like the San Juan Islands in a tsunami¡ªevery Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s Room must¡¯ve emptied out, and every one of the tree faces is after me. The Blur is coming. Eight seconds. If I hurry, I can make it to the next room. But instead, I slam the counselors¡¯ office door shut behind me, then drop to the floor. If the door holds off the tree faces, even for a minute, that¡¯ll be enough time to turn the Universal Reality Anchor. At least, I hope it will. The anomaly appears through the wall and whooshes over my head again, and I watch the safety-glass window in the door behind me bend from the weight of tree faces. I¡¯m already up and running as the safety glass pushes in with a ¡®whing!¡¯ sound and smashes into the computer. Did the door hold for seven seconds or eight? It could be the difference between life and death by tree faces. I¡¯m not sure, and I don¡¯t have time to experiment. The Blur replicates rooms as it passes through, but it¡¯s also replicating tree faces, and if I don¡¯t hurry, the tide will bury me. Mr. White and Mrs. Vorhese¡¯s office fills almost instantly behind me as I slam the next door and sprint. I make it through one office, then the next, pushing doors behind me as I run. James yells something in my ear. ¡°Two seconds!¡± Shit, I think. Then The Blur slams into me again. I see myself again momentarily as I roll across the floor toward the next door. When I roll back around, the other me is gone, leaving behind a pile of my clothes. {Stability 1/10} I¡¯m up and running a moment later, but it¡¯s too late. The door splinters from the weight of a trillion tree faces. They¡¯re all around me, flooding into the room. I struggle to my feet. Their plastic jaws bite at my legs as they fill my cargo pants to my knees, and I scream so loudly my throat stops working. ¡°Get to the anchor!¡± James says in my ear. His attempt at being calm is a transparent lie. His words are right, though. The truth is that I have one chance. If I can turn on the anchor just one room over, it might make the copied tree faces disappear. I keep staggering toward it, pushed forward by the flood of crablike decorations. The Universal Reality Anchor is right there. I take one more step. ¡°Green! Green!¡± James says. I push the green button, and the gyroscopes start spinning. My vision goes shimmery and multicolored for a moment, then that fades to the edges, but doesn¡¯t stop. As the tsunami of tree faces towers over me and starts crashing down, it fades away into dust that falls slowly around me and vanishes. I take a shaky breath, tears of agony running down my face, and slowly, gingerly roll my left pant leg up to my knee. My calf and shin are a bloody mess, and I wince and sob in pain as I lower the pant leg back over it. The universal reality anchor hums and whirs behind me as I lean against its controls, then slide onto my butt. James speaks in my ear in the suddenly silent counselors¡¯ office¡ªthe only counselors¡¯ office between me and the half-destroyed secretaries¡¯ desks. ¡°Good job, Claire. You survived a Type One Spatial Anomaly and safely brought Object 573-V-1/1O through the Reality Anchor¡¯s effect. Now, hold your position. Recovery and stabilization team Lambda-Four will be here in¡­¡± I don¡¯t hear the rest of what he has to say. Chapter Seven [SHOCKS Internal Communications Log] VVI Control Zone, May 26, 2043 Researcher Catherine Edwards; Director Adam Smith; Head Researcher Andre LeClerque - - - - - Smith: Cutting the formalities, because time is ticking. With me are Catherine Edwards from Digital Anomalous Warfare and Andre LeClerque from Stabilization and Field Containment. Estimated times until failure? Edwards: As far as digital warfare is concerned, failure happened three hours ago when cyber attacks overpowered Ostrich 1 and 2. Following protocol, SHOCKS Victoria is cut off from the rest of the network. LeClerque: Field Containment is failing in the Sooke, Duncan, and Albert Head areas. We¡¯re holding the city center for now and evacuating as many civilians to the SeaTac Control Zone or farther inland into Canada as we can. Call it four days? Maybe five? Smith: Damn. Anything we can do to stall? LeClerque: Not particularly. We need more Recovery and Stabilization Teams. Lambda Four¡¯s field losses left us in trouble. We don¡¯t have the personnel without them. Even with them, I wouldn¡¯t count on more than an extra day or two. Edwards: No. But as long as the Victoria Site doesn¡¯t connect to the internet, its intranet system is air-gapped. We¡¯ll be cut off, but Beta won¡¯t be able to subvert the Joint Anomaly System. Smith: So, to sum up, we¡¯re cut off, not enough people, four days. Get back to work and try for a breakthrough. I¡¯ll look at our Gutenberg Protocol options. Silence. Log ends.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - I¡¯m becoming more and more convinced that I¡¯m not in a hospital. On the first day and most of the second¡ªor at least, for the first four meals that slid onto the tray table next to my bed- it felt like maybe I was in an ICU or something. And I couldn¡¯t move well, so I spent my time in bed and slept. My arms, face, and legs were nothing but bandages, and the beeping, humming machines and sterile lemon smell threatened to drive me crazy. Sleep felt better than that. But now, I¡¯ve had time to take a closer look, and the whole thing¡¯s fake. For one thing, I can¡¯t text out of here. I¡¯ve tried, of course. A quick message to Alice, just in case she¡¯s paying attention, to let her know I¡¯m okay. A longer one to Dad. He¡¯s not paying attention, of course. But mostly, I send messages to Sora. When I started sending them, I didn¡¯t pay attention to whether they sent; I just wanted someone to hear me. Claire - Claire - Claire - But as time¡¯s passed, it¡¯s gotten to be less about whether she¡¯s listening and more about lying to myself that she is. An unread messages diary. My most recent one looks more like this: Claire - I guess it¡¯s more like a diary. I¡¯ve run the equation a dozen times, and it keeps coming up the same. If X is the fact that no one¡¯s actually visited me to check up on me while I¡¯m awake, Y is the massive plexiglass wall on one side of my hospital room and the doctors constantly watching me from behind it, and Z is that when I took off the bandages on my calves, no one stopped me, but the moment I tried to remove the IV in my arm, I fell asleep and when I woke up, it was taped down even more, the math always comes out the same. It¡¯s not a hospital room. It¡¯s a cell, which means I¡¯m not in a hospital. I¡¯m in a prison. I¡¯m up and about. The doctors don¡¯t care if I move around as long as the IV stays in my arm, so I cart the stand with the bag full of whatever they¡¯re pumping into me along behind me as I pace back and forth. My room is white, with white tiles, a white ceiling, and white walls. My bedding is white, the hospital machines are a mix of white and chrome, and even my hospital gown is white. More importantly, it¡¯s boring. I don¡¯t have a book, my phone, or even a TV to watch cartoons or something. I can¡¯t write anything down, make a paper airplane, or throw spitballs at the glass¡ªthough I tried that with some napkin paper the first day. All I can do is pace, think, and worry about my family, Sora, Keith, and myself. Or I can watch as they experiment with the Revolver. Yeah, it¡¯s here too. It¡¯s in a little clear box with a door on either side. One door on their side unlocks with a code, and they¡¯re constantly fiddling with it. I think the code is 839123, but I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s almost impossible to see, but watching the doctors is my only entertainment, so I¡¯ve been paying attention for about six hours straight. The other door is on my side. It does not have a number panel, and I doubt 839123 would work if it did. So, that¡¯s the stalemate. I don¡¯t talk to them because they¡¯re definitely SHOCKS doctors, and so was my therapist. I tried a couple of times at first before I got my panic under control, but they ignored me. Instead, I pace back and forth, wishing I had my glasses. A buzzer goes off above me. ¡°Subject - 573-V-1/1O-Alpha, this is Doctor Smith. Do you recognize my voice?¡± I freeze. I¡¯m not sure where they dug up my therapist, but the voice is the same¡ªolder, yes, but the same painful, talk-down-to-the-kid voice from when I was five. He¡¯s a liar, and I refuse to talk to him, but he¡¯s also the only human voice I¡¯ve heard in what I think is three days. ¡°Subject - 573-V-1/1O-Alpha, would you prefer your given name?¡± I nod before I can stop myself and sit down on the bed. As I ball my knees up into my chest, I glare at the plexiglass. I can¡¯t see Doctor Smith, but he¡¯s in there somewhere. He won¡¯t get anything out of me that I¡¯m not willing to give. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, we¡¯ve been conducting experiments to separate you from the 573-V-1/1O anomaly. If we can do that, and you agree to a round of amnestics, we can return you to your family in a couple of days.¡± My heart pounds in my chest. I don¡¯t want to admit it, but I¡¯ve missed Sora, Keith, Dad¡­and even Alice. I nod and look at the plexiglass box¡ªand at the doctors on the window¡¯s far side. He¡¯s still not getting a single word from me. Not one. But I¡¯ll play along a little if it means I can get out of here. So, for the next three hours, I go through the motions. A door opens, and I¡¯m instructed through it. They poke me with needles and check my eyes, hook electrodes to my brain, make me sit still in some spinning machine, and a dozen other things Doctor Smith says are necessary baseline tests. In between, the door shuts, and I¡¯m stuck in the white room with nothing to do while they take notes on their computers and tablets. And the whole time, I glare at where I imagine Doctor Smith is. I can¡¯t see him, but he can obviously see me, so he¡¯s in there somewhere, or maybe watching through a camera. I have to do what they say¡­for now¡­but I¡¯ll never trust him. Never. The intercom crackles, and his condescending, too-slick voice fills the room. ¡°In fifteen seconds, the door on your side of the barrier will open. Please pick up the gun, fire it at the lit-up target on the far side of your cell, and place it back in its containment unit.¡± I nod again. An LED light appears on the far wall, spiraling out to form a red-and-blue target circle on the otherwise-white wall. An alarm goes off, and shiny chrome barriers cover the plexiglass, cutting me off from the scientists. Then, after precisely fifteen seconds, the door opens, and I¡¯m reunited with the Revolver. I pick it up, its white ceramic grip comfortable in my hand, and aim it at the chrome barrier. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, fire it at the target. This room has been built to handle you and your anomaly. The barrier is designed to withstand its estimated heat output, as are the walls.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± I mutter as I pull the trigger. They have no idea what it can do. The fiery shot hits the target, but not quite in the center. I hold onto the Revolver, hoping against hope that its cylinder has spun and given me a tool the doctors weren¡¯t expecting, but there¡¯s nothing. ¡°Place Object 573-V-1/1O back into its containment unit,¡± Doctor Smith¡¯s voice says. After a moment, I comply. The speaker goes silent, and the blast barrier falls after a minute, letting the doctors see me. They¡¯re busily typing away, glancing excitedly at the Revolver and talking to each other with animated arms. We repeat the same process several times, with me shooting different things. I try out Bullet Time once before I think better of it, and when I pull the trigger, time almost stops for me. I get three trigger squeezes before all three shots fire at the same time, slamming into the target. Then I stop using it; they don¡¯t need to know more about that.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. After the fifth shot, they stop me. Then, the blast shields go up again, and on the far side, between the Revolver and me, sits a guillotine. It¡¯s just tall enough to hover over the box, and it looks like it¡¯s made from obsidian, with an edge so sharp I can¡¯t see it¡ªthough without my glasses, it¡¯s hard to be sure of even that. A dozen wires and sensors are hooked up to its every surface, and ¡°Thank you, Subject - 573-V-1/1O-Alpha. We believe we¡¯ve gathered enough information to attempt to sever the anomaly¡¯s hold on you. Please stand on the marked spot.¡± An LED lights up the floor, and I drag the IV stand over to it. ¡°Experiment 573-V-1/1O-EX-56 beginning. Drop it.¡± The guillotine drops. I don¡¯t feel any different, and the Revolver is still sitting there, but all hell breaks loose outside my cell.
The lights in the doctors¡¯ room all go off, bulbs exploding. Computer screens burst out as well. The room looks filled with shards of glass that reflect the fluorescents from my room, and I can almost hear the alarm going off. Almost. A moment later, the doctors flee as red emergency lights fill their side of the plexiglass. I¡¯m not sure where they¡¯re going, and I don¡¯t care. They¡¯re leaving me alone. That means one of two things. Either I¡¯m expendable, and they don¡¯t care if I¡¯m stuck during an emergency, or the emergency won¡¯t affect me. Either way, I¡¯m trapped in a box. I pound on the plexiglass for a minute, but none of the fleeing doctors hear it. The room is soundproofed; I¡¯m an experiment, not a person to them. They¡¯re the boogeymen, after all. More interesting is the Halcyon System message that immediately follows. I haven¡¯t seen one since I passed out in the counselors¡¯ office at West End High. It¡¯s good to know I¡¯ve still got it, whatever it is, and since the power seems to be out and no one¡¯s watching, I have plenty of time to explore it. {Halcyon System Re-Initializing} {Sol-Three has been infected. Initiating self-defense protocols. Enabling System interfaces. Congratulations on bonding with a passive anomaly. You are survivor number 7,359,104 to do so.} {Firewall Protocols Overridden: 3/3} {Air-Gap Found. Full Access Blocked} {System Access: 90%} {Affected System Features} ?Archived Anomaly Information ?Assistance Functions {Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability} {Claire Pendleton} ?Stability 6/10 ?Skills - Physical Anomaly Resistance 1, Endurance 2. Revolver Mastery 1, Bullet Time ?Truths - Anomalous Bond 2 (-2), West End High 1 (-2) ?Inquiries (0/5) I grin in the dark as the red emergency lights flash. I still can¡¯t access Archived Anomaly Information or Assistance Functions¡ªevery time I try, I get the bonk-boing sound¡ªbut Skill and Truth information should let me fill in enough variables to understand how this thing works. I decide to work down from the top, starting with Stability. {Stability - You are a bastion of reality, but even the mightiest fortress can fall. Stability represents your mental and emotional defenses. They¡¯ll be strained by Truths you¡¯re not ready to handle and by the inexplicable things you¡¯ll encounter. If you become unstable, you¡¯ll merge with another reality¡ªor another reality will merge with you.} So, keep Stability high. It¡¯s an HP bar from games like Knights of the Apocalypse. That sounds easy enough on the surface, but the West End High merge pushed mine down to nothing. There has to be a way to slow down Stability loss¡ªlike armor, but for my mind and emotions. I check my Skills next since it sounds like Truths aren¡¯t going to help with my Stability. {Skills - Knowing the Truth can come with benefits. Push your limits for more} That¡¯s cryptic, and not as mathematical as I was hoping, but it¡¯s enough to know I can learn Skill from Truths or from working my body¡ªand maybe mind¡ªpast its limits. I check my skills. Right now, there are only three. {Physical Anomaly Resistance - Decreases Stability loss from Physical anomalies by 1/rank} {Endurance - Increases physical endurance slightly for each rank} {Revolver Mastery 1 - Increases skill with revolvers slightly for each rank} ¡°Defense, stamina, and offense,¡± I whisper. It¡¯s precisely like Knights of the Apocalypse, except I¡¯m defending myself against¡­thinlings¡¯ screams and whatever the replicating anomaly was, not against their claws and stuff. ¡°I¡¯ve never touched a revolver before. I shouldn¡¯t have been able to use it even that much.¡± None of the cameras have recording lights on, and whatever knocked out the doctor¡¯s room¡¯s computers blew the power, too, so I feel okay whispering to myself. The equation¡¯s starting to come together. {Truths - Knowing the Truth comes with a cost.} I grin wryly. That¡¯s a Truth by itself. Then I keep reading. {Realities, beings, and phenomena that refuse to mesh with your understanding of reality will cause your Stability to drop as you learn about them. However, the Truth is the Truth; you must live with it or stay ignorant.} {Anomalous Bond 2 - You¡¯ve formed a bond with an anomaly. You can control some aspects of that anomaly but have been branded as one yourself. Welcome to the Halcyon System.} My throat tightens as I realize why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m not interesting because I can use the Revolver or because I¡¯m helping them study it, and I¡¯m not leaving if I¡¯m cooperative. I¡¯m part of the experiment, and after they¡¯re done? What then? Will I disappear? Or is this my life now? Am I stuck in a box forever? My breathing goes faster and faster, and my vision starts to blur. I need something else to focus on. Anything else. I mentally tap the next Truth. {West End High - The Halcyon System has been depositing less dangerous anomalies on Earth for a long time. The Revolver is one of those. The Revolver is from a safe reality. You can accept other anomalous items from it.} ¡°Well, that¡¯s super-trustworthy,¡± I whisper in the dark, laughing nervously and trying to push my panic down. Like I¡¯m going to trust a blatant lie like that. But I¡¯m not getting the lie feeling from it. I shake my head. Even if R-573 is safe like this Truth claims, the Revolver got me into this mess, and I don¡¯t want to dig my hole any deeper than it is. I want out, not further in. A flashlight flickers in the hall that the doctors all fled down earlier. I wish I could investigate; maybe it¡¯s someone who can get me out of here. That¡¯d be nice, but it¡¯s not the Truth. Instead, a soldier pokes the barrel of a black gun around the corner, pans across the room, and waves three other soldiers in. They each have an upside-down V, the number 4, and the SHOCKS symbol patched onto their arms; I can see the circles and arrows, just like on the pills I didn¡¯t take and on my therapist¡¯s coat. They check the room carefully, and then one talks into a radio, but I can¡¯t make out the words through the soundproof barrier. I go back to the System. {Inquiries - Learning the Truth requires investigation. Questioning the world you know, those you don¡¯t, and those who gatekeep that knowledge can yield incredible understanding and expose new pitfalls. Answering an Inquiry unlocks new Skills but also exposes your mind to Truths¡ªsome of which it won¡¯t be prepared for.} As a handful of doctors shuffle into the room, sweeping glass from their papers and clearing their seats, I work through what I know about the System. If my Stability is six right now, and I want to learn what happened at West End High, or why I¡¯m in a cell in¡ªI take a wild guess¡ªVictoria instead of at home or in a real hospital, I can afford to do some digging. The answers are almost certainly anomalous knowledge, so learning it will decrease my Stability. Not that I¡¯m close to answering anything. I add the new one to my Inquiries, though. {Inquiry: Where am I? What does SHOCKS want with me?} Still, by the time SHOCKS¡¯ custodians have the room cleared and new lightbulbs and computers installed, I¡¯ve got a pretty good idea of which Inquiries I want to pursue and the whole loop the Halcyon System runs off of. Every game¡¯s got a loop. Usually¡ªlike in KOTA¡ªit¡¯s ¡®fight enemies in the dungeons,¡¯ then ¡®level up and get equipment,¡¯ then ¡®fight stronger enemies and clear more of the dungeons.¡¯ That game¡¯s got a pretty simple loop, and it¡¯s based around fighting and gear. The Halcyon System has a loop, too. I need to find the answers to Inquiries. Those Truths give me Skills but decrease my Stability. Some Skills increase my stability¡ªor, more accurately, decrease Truth and encounter Stability penalties. Luckily, I¡¯m probably in the best place to find the answers to those Truths as long as I can maintain my Stability. The boogeymen have to know the answers to some of these questions¡ªmaybe all of them. All I need to do is figure out how to get out of this white, boring box and start exploring the place, and I can probably learn more than I need to. ¡°We will now continue with testing, Clarice,¡± Doctor Smith¡¯s voice says through the intercom. ¡°Please take the gun and proceed through the open door.¡±
The door leads to a firing range, and I spend almost an hour there. A few doctors sit behind a massive bulletproof glass wall, along with a man in black clothes who holds a revolver. He walks me through every gun safety lesson ever, from how to unload the cylinder¡ªwhich I can¡¯t do¡ªto how to make sure it¡¯s secured on my body. I don¡¯t have a gun belt or a holster or whatever, so I go through the motions until he¡¯s sure I¡¯ve got it. I only half pay attention, though. Most of my mind is on trying to answer my Inquiries. The moment he¡¯s done, the doctors take over. firing the Revolver over and over at different targets while a dozen cameras record each shot from every conceivable angle. I have to take a little extra caution not to pull the IV needle out of my arm after every shot. I¡¯m being watched, but even so, I can¡¯t help use Bullet Time once or twice more, just to understand what it does. The whole world slows down when I use it, and the Revolver sings in my hand as it rapid-fires three flaming shots that seem to hover just past the barrel¡¯s tip. Then I snap out of it, and all three fire toward their targets at the same time. By the time I¡¯m done, my wrist aches, I¡¯m wobbly on my still-painful legs, and the Revolver¡¯s barrel smokes after every pull of the trigger. I¡¯ve also ranked up Revolver Mastery to Three. After both rank-ups, I feel more accurate, and the Revolver feels smoother and smoother with every shot. I try not to take advantage of my faster reflexes to get more shots off; somehow, I get the feeling that SHOCKS would dig into my augs to learn about the Halcyon System if it knew I had it. They don¡¯t deserve to know any of that truth, anyway. That¡¯s just for me¡ªand maybe for Truth Club. As the last target falls back and I stretch my wrist painfully, Doctor Smith¡¯s voice cuts over the intercom. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, return through the door and place the gun back inside its containment unit.¡± As I put the Revolver back in its box and the door slides shut, the lights on the other side go out. I¡¯m familiar enough with the routine to know that I¡¯ve got ten minutes before mine, too, go black, and I¡¯m left in the dark except for medical equipment. Dinner is fast. It¡¯s a pair of soft tacos and a paper cup filled with water. A second cup slides in on a similar tray as I finish it. I eat ravenously. The first day, I didn¡¯t, and the food disappeared after the lights turned off. Then I brush my teeth, singing the ABCs in my head to get the timing right since neither my cell nor my bathroom has a clock, and I wouldn¡¯t trust it even if they did. For all I know, it¡¯s two in the afternoon. For all I know, time doesn¡¯t exist anymore. Sleep hits me fast. It has the last two nights, too; I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re drugging me, but it¡¯s not worth the trouble to pull out my IV or try to hold my breath if it¡¯s in the air. They¡¯d just force the IV back in and add even more tape. I fight the sleep for a while, though. Sora¡¯s out there. So is Keith, and Dad, and even Alice. I wonder what lie the boogeymen told them. Did they say I¡¯m dead, or missing? Both would be believable. Or did they not say anything at all, and just disappear me? Claire - Interview: L4-5] Background: Arnold Strauss was the technical support specialist for Recovery and Stabilization Team Lambda-Four, which was present at Ground Zero of Merge Prime. He and his team scrambled from Victoria Headquarters and arrived at West End High School in Albert Head within fifteen minutes of the merge triplet¡¯s detection. Interview Subject: Sergeant Arnold Strauss Interviewer: Researcher Francine Barnes Researcher Barnes: Interview with L4-Five, Sergeant Arnold Strauss. The time is 20:35, May 23. Interview conducted in Victoria Headquarters. Sergeant, tell me what you saw when you arrived at Ground Zero, Albert Head. Sergeant Strauss: Graphic details or strictly professional, Doc? Researcher Barnes: Professional, please. Sergeant Strauss: Okay. The truck pulled up outside the high school, and we piled out. It looked like a typical merge, with the transparent wall between us and them¡ªthat¡¯s what they¡¯d told us on the way over, and that¡¯s all we¡¯d had time to prep for: standard merge, standard go-bag equipment. We hustled out, and I planted the mini-anchor. While I was working on that, I saw the first Incomp. It was just on the other side, staring at me. I stared back for a minute, then signaled the rest of the team that we had hostiles inside. Researcher Barnes: Isn¡¯t it typical to assume there¡¯s something dangerous inside a merge? Sergeant Strauss: Yes. But it¡¯s also standard to tell the team what to expect, even if it¡¯s an Incomp. L4-One called it in, and HQ informed us that backup wasn¡¯t coming and we were weapons-free. I triggered the mini-anchor to breach, and everything went to shit. Researcher Barnes: Describe what happened, Sergeant. Sergeant Strauss: You¡¯ve seen the footage, right? Researcher Barnes: Yes. For the record. Sergeant Strauss: Fuck. The mini-anchor popped, an entry point opened, and we tried to rush the Incomp. But we couldn¡¯t get through. It could, though. We unloaded everything we had on it, but the bullets wouldn¡¯t go in, either. Then the merge zone started expanding as it rushed us, almost like the zone was shielding it. Researcher Barnes: Doctrinally, the correct move was to¡ª Sergeant Strauss: Doc, sometimes doctrine¡¯s wrong. We could have rushed it, but the other Incomps were moving toward us inside. L4-3 went down¡ªthe screams were unbelievable until the merge covered her. I did what I had to do. Researcher Barnes: What did you do? Sergeant Strauss: I shot out the mini-anchor. That stopped the growth and reversed it so we could kill the Incomp. L4-1 checked L4-3, but she was already dead. Then we sat around and waited for something to happen. We couldn¡¯t get in, the Incomps couldn¡¯t get out, and it was staying that way without a bigger door-knocker. Researcher Barnes: So when the merge barrier dropped? What happened then? Sergeant Strauss: Mop-up. Incomps are easy to kill when they¡¯re not indestructible. We cleared the soccer field¡ªI don¡¯t envy the clean-up teams¡ªand hit the front door. I detected an active URA in the office, where I found the POI. I took her into custody while L4-1, L4-2, and L4-4 cleared the other Incomps and waited for an amnestics team. The POI was unconscious, with some pretty nasty wounds to her arms, legs, and face. I put in a secure medical chamber request. On-site first-aid seemed viable to keep her alive, and we needed her to tell us about the Object she found since I couldn¡¯t take it from her. It was only after we got her to base that we realized she¡¯d also been fully infected with the Beta info¡ª Researcher Barnes: Thank you, Sergeant. We¡¯ll debrief you on Beta separately. This interview is focused only on your experiences with Alpha. Sergeant Strauss: Understood. Sorry. So, once I had the POI back with the medical team and heading back to [REDACTED], I regrouped with 1, 2, and 4. We paired up. 1 and 2 were stuck with evacuations and helping the amnestic team, and me and 4 checked out the URA. Something went wrong with the URA, but neither of us know enough about how those damn things work to say what. They¡¯ve been my go-to tool for three years, and I still have no idea what McGovern was thinking when she invented them. I¡¯ve recommended it be pulled for inspection. Any news on that? Researcher Barnes: The director says no. We¡¯re hurting bad, and we can¡¯t pull any URAs off the line. Sorry, Arnold. Sergeant Strauss: It¡¯s fine, Frannie. Anything else? Researcher Barnes: If you have no further additions¡­No? Alright, end of interview between Researcher Francine Barnes and Sergeant Arnold Strauss. Notes: In light of their inadequate intelligence briefing heading into the Albert Head merge, Lambda-Four has been declared not responsible for the doctrinal breaches that resulted in the death of L4-3, Patricia Flemming. RST L-4 is being remobilized to help slow down merges in the Victoria area and keep panic from spreading, potentially in conjunction with the Gutenberg protocol. [Back]
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - My eyes spring open. It¡¯s bright in my cell, but breakfast isn¡¯t here. I blink at a pair of black-ish blobs and reach for my glasses. When I finally get them on, I¡¯m staring down two rifles from my hospital bed. ¡°Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, stay seated. No sudden moves,¡± one of the soldiers¡ªin black body armor and looking more like they¡¯re attacking a terrorist base than menacing a high-school girl¡ªsays. ¡°The director will¡ª¡° ¡°L4-5, stand down,¡± a new voice says, and I freeze up. It¡¯s the same slick, talk-down-to-the-kid voice as the intercom yesterday. Doctor Smith. My therapist. And he¡¯s in the same room as me. ¡°We don¡¯t need to worry about Clarice. You can wait outside. You too, L4-2. If she causes trouble, I¡¯m sure I can handle it.¡± Doctor Smith is shorter and grayer than I remember him. He still smells the same: cheap cologne, cigarettes, and sweat. I almost ask him for a smoke. He¡¯s not wearing a lab coat this time, though the stupid blue bow tie hasn¡¯t changed. Now he¡¯s wearing a suit, and at his hip sits a revolver. Not the Revolver. I recognize it, but I¡¯m not sure what kind¡ªa big one. The hairs on my neck stand up as the two soldiers leave. A moment later, Doctor Smith takes out a lighter, flicks it¡ªidiocy in a hospital, but fine in a cell¡ªand lights a cigarette. The smoke filters out of the room through the vent, sucked straight up as fans rev more and more. I¡¯m envious. That should be mine. I could really use it right now. But as he brings the cigarette to his lips, I realize the truth. Doctor Smith is nervous, just like me. Now that I know where to look, it¡¯s obvious. His eye twitches behind his too-round glasses, and he can¡¯t keep his free hand off his short but poorly-maintained beard. The bags under his eyes give me a clue why. He hasn¡¯t slept in a while. He clears his throat the moment the soldiers step out, reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out a little device. He presses a few buttons, and the blast shield slides over the window, sealing us inside my cell. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, I¡¯ve cut all monitoring from the outside except for this recording device, which is transmitting our conversation to my office. I need a verbal acknowledgment that what I¡¯m telling you is privileged information and is not to be shared with anyone else. I, Director Adam Smith of the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone, am sharing it in the interest of SHOCKS, at my discretion.¡± I roll my eyes and press my lips together. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m giving Doctor¡ªDirector¡ªSmith anything, even if he says he needs it. If Alice is a liar, this guy¡¯s worse. I know why she lies. This guy lives it. ¡°Clarice, SHOCKS needs¡ª¡° ¡°Claire.¡± ¡°Claire, then. SHOCKS needs you to acknowledge that¡ª¡° ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this shit,¡± Director Smith says. ¡°Claire, I have exactly nine minutes, fifty-three seconds before my next meeting. I¡¯m supposed to keep ground zero of a Qishi-Danger apocalypse from worsening, and I don¡¯t have communications with anyone outside this building. You¡¯re a registered anomaly, and I¡¯m only giving you the courtesy of knowing what¡¯s happening outside your cell because I don¡¯t have many other options. Now, will you acknowledge that what I¡¯m telling you is¡ª¡° ¡°I heard you the first time.¡± Getting confirmation that I¡¯m a science experiment cuts deep. I have so many questions about that, but he won¡¯t have any real answers, and that¡¯s the Truth. A truth. Keeping the Halcyon System and the Truth Club separate is gonna be a pain in the ass. I cross my arms, careful not to jerk on the IV, and glare at him from my bed, but I¡¯m clammed up, just like I was as a five-year-old. He can¡¯t make me talk. Nothing he says can do that. ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°We have three minutes. If you have questions afterward, Doctor Ramirez will answer what you¡¯re cleared for. Short briefing: you were at the center of what we¡¯re calling Merge Prime. At this point, it¡¯s expanded across western Canada and the northwestern United States, and it¡¯s not stopping. Lots of merges and lots of anomalies, mostly centered on Victoria. I¡¯m the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone¡¯s director, so I¡¯m supposed to be stopping this disaster.¡± He sucks on his cigarette, not aware that it¡¯s gone out. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough resources in the Control Zone to solve it, so we¡¯ve been trying to slow things down so other Zones can get a hold on things. But I¡¯m playing against a rigged deck here. Recovery and stabilization team Lambda-Four is down a member, so they¡¯re out of the fight when we need them most. Lambda-Five needs to be pulled off the line, but I can¡¯t deploy an undermanned team and expect them to be effective.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. As I try to parse all the information he¡¯s throwing at me, it gradually sinks in that he hasn¡¯t lied yet. That means a big one¡¯s coming. He¡¯s leaving a lot out, too¡ªenough that it could count as a lie on its own¡ªand what he is saying, I can¡¯t put into my equation. The math becomes unsolvable every time I try. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡° I start to say. ¡°No. No questions,¡± Director Smith interrupts. ¡°You¡¯re not cleared for any answers unless you accept, and I don¡¯t have time. Doctor Ramirez will fill you in later. Two minutes. Before we lost communications yesterday, Global activated the Gutenberg Protocol. It authorizes me to make deals with anomalies like you in emergencies. If you accept, I can get you Level A clearance, time out of your little box, and whatever else you need.¡± ¡°I want¡ª¡° ¡°Within reason,¡± he interrupts me again, and I glare at him. I was going to say I want to go home, but I doubt he¡¯d accept that, and even if he said he would, it¡¯d be a lie. ¡°I have a minute and a half, so I can¡¯t negotiate with you. We¡¯ll leave that to Doctor Ramirez. I¡¯ll stop by when I have a moment to complete the paperwork. You¡¯ll be in uniform and serving with Lambda-Four tomorrow.¡± He clicks the button on his little recording device, and just like that, the blast shields go up. He leaves¡ªflicking his cigarette into my trash can and leaving a fresh one behind on his chair¡ªand one of the black-armored soldiers falls in behind him. He was always abrupt when flustered, and if he¡¯s in charge of a worldwide disaster, he probably is. That wasn¡¯t a minute and a half. I add a new question to my Inquiries, though. {Inquiry: What is Merge Prime?}
My first instinct is to stay clammed up. The guy who¡¯s supposed to be answering my questions doesn¡¯t seem to be a talker, either. That¡¯s fine. I have a lot on my mind. My first instinct is to tell the sweaty, twitchy boogeyman standing near my cell door to fuck off. Dad would be pissed, but he¡¯s the least of my worries right now, and I doubt this guy¡¯s got any power in SHOCKS. But on the other hand, I might be able to use this. I whisper, ¡°Inquiries¡± to myself. My aug activates at the same time Doctor Twitchy jumps. ¡°What¡¯d you say?¡± ?Inquiries (2/5) ?Where am I? What does SHOCKS want with me? ?What is Merge Prime? I ignore him. I bet anything SHOCKS knows partial answers to both of these. I¡¯m at 6/10 Stability, so if the answers reduce it by two each time, I can learn two more Truths. It¡¯s like the Truth Club, but instead of learning Truths by talking to my friends, I need to do some digging, and I can¡¯t do that while I¡¯m locked in a plexiglass box pretending to be a hospital room. But it sounds like I¡¯ll be allowed out if I play along. That¡¯s my sister¡¯s lie, not my truth, but right now, it gets me closer to my goals. To leaving and finding Sora, Dad, Keith, and Alice. ¡°Doctor Twitchy, before I say yes or no, I want to know some things.¡± Doctor Twitchy blinks at me. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish¡¯s. Then he clears his throat and, with what I¡¯m sure he thinks is a brave face, looks me in the eye. ¡°What?¡± He croaks. ¡°What is Merge Prime? Where am I? Are my family and Sora and Keith alright? What happened at my school?¡± I want to shut up, but I can¡¯t stop the wave of questions now that it¡¯s started. ¡°Am I still a person? What¡¯s happening outside? Is Duncan Towers safe? What about the basic living apartments¡ªyou know, at Ten-Mile Point? I need to know!¡± ¡°Uh, classified, classified, I¡¯m not sure, classified, yes and no, classified, no, and no,¡± Doctor Twitchy rattles off. It takes me a minute to pick apart his rapid-fire answer. When I finally do, the only things he¡¯s told me are that he doesn¡¯t know if my friends and family are okay and that whatever¡¯s going on, Duncan Towers and the Ten-Mile basic living apartments where we live are in the thick of it. I can¡¯t help it. I tear up. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you any of the answers, but I know them,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°If you agree to service as a Level A SHOCKS employee, I¡¯m supposed to tell you what I can.¡± I almost say yes right there, just to know the truth about some of this. But Doctor¡ªDirector¡ªSmith¡¯s stress and sleeplessness made him tell me more than he ever did when he explained thinnings and merges to me as a kid, and I know I can ask for a lot here. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s probably been told to give me whatever I want as long as it doesn¡¯t break a few rules. ¡°What can¡¯t I have?¡± I ask. Doctor Twitchy pulls out a card and skims it. The back of it has a yellow triangle with three arrows pointing out from a circle in the middle. ¡°You can¡¯t have access to the Joint Enhancement System except when you¡¯re actively on a mission with Lambda-Four or training with them. You can¡¯t have unsupervised time outside of your cell. You can¡¯t leave the SHOCKS VVI facility unless you¡¯re escorted by either Lambda-Four or a Director-appointed agent. And you can only have read access to the network¡¯s Level A-cleared documentation and outside internet¡ªnot that it matters, since all internal systems are air-gapped for the foreseeable future.¡± ¡°Can I contact my family?¡± ¡°Not directly, but we¡¯re willing to allow you to shoot a video message of no more than one minute, pre-scripted, to let them know you¡¯re safe.¡± That¡¯s a lie. The way he reaches up to scratch his neck tells me it is. I narrow my eyes, and his face pales. ¡°I mean, we¡¯ll record it, then decide if it¡¯s something we can pass on to the public. But I can¡¯t commit to it. Sorry.¡± ¡°Fine. I want a different room.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Doctor Twitchy says almost too quickly. My eyes narrow even more. I see him reach for a button on a lanyard around his neck, and his eyes flick to the plexiglass¡ªand the soldier behind it. For the first time, I really look at Doctor Twitchy. He¡¯s balding, with a thin black beard coming in, and he looks even more tired than my ex-therapist. He¡¯s wearing a white lab coat, a lanyard with a button and a key card hanging from it, and no-slip shoes. His eyes dart to the window again, and I realize I¡¯m in control. I can ask for whatever I want if I don¡¯t make him nervous enough to push his panic button. ¡°I want a new room¡ªone with walls, not windows. Three meals a day, and real people clothes. I don¡¯t care what they are, as long as there¡¯s enough that I¡¯m not wearing hospital gowns.¡± I start small. I want to see what he can do. He nods, and I keep going. ¡°I want free access to the rest of this place.¡± ¡°Supervised and as appropriate for Level A personnel,¡± he says immediately. ¡°Procedure, sorry.¡± ¡°Whatever. A computer or aug access to the internet and your internal network, and some books. Something interesting.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got it.¡± ¡°I want you to help my dad and sister, and I want to see Sora Ito,¡± I say, pushing for the big one. If I can get this, I can get anything. ¡°The first part we can do. It¡¯ll take some work, but I think we can find a way to help them. The second part is denied.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Doctor Twitchy looks at the guard again, and I realize I¡¯m glaring. ¡°Officially, you¡¯re missing. You¡¯re not the only missing person after your high school merged, so it¡¯s not being questioned. If we get through this and sever your connection to your anomaly, we¡¯ll ¡®find¡¯ you in a hospital, but if your friend saw you, we¡¯d need a new explanation for where you are. As of May Twenty-Second, at 12:27, you entered SHOCKS custody. You¡¯re a registered anomaly, and we can¡¯t risk losing hold of you until we¡¯ve figured out your properties or unbonded you from Object 573-V-1¡ª¡° I hold up a hand, tearing up again, and Doctor Twitchy stops talking. I need a minute to think, because the Truth, with a capital T, is that as long as I¡¯m here, I¡¯m a prisoner. It¡¯s been fun to pretend to deny it, but I¡¯m in the boogeyman¡¯s prison, and even if they do move me to a new room, let me see people, or give me access to their files, I¡¯m not going anywhere¡ªnot really. And that Truth, while not something I can use to answer an Inquiry, tells me a lot about my situation. ¡°Do I have a file or registration?¡± I ask. ¡°Tw¡ªyes. Do you want access to it?¡± Doctor Twitchy asks. ¡°Yes.¡± Whatever he¡¯s going to give me won¡¯t be the whole file. ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ll work with Lambda-Four?¡± I think for a minute. Then I nod. ¡°I¡¯m Claire Pendleton,¡± I say, holding my hand to shake. He does not shake my hand. ¡°Doctor Ramirez. I¡¯m the head researcher on the 573-V-1/IO anomaly. You¡¯re my project. I¡¯ll¡­I¡¯ll get someone from containment to work on your requests.¡± He opens the door, and the guard stiffens and readies his rifle. I clear my throat. ¡°Oh, and I don¡¯t want to be an experiment.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll¡­see what I can do.¡± That¡¯s a lie. He won¡¯t try, but he¡¯s out the door, and my cell¡¯s sealed before I can say anything else. I flop onto the bed. There¡¯s one more thing, but I¡¯ve got a feeling they¡¯ll give it to me without asking. Instead, I rerun the numbers. Doctor Ramirez can¡¯t be trusted. None of the boogeymen can. But he did tell me one important thing. He and Smith both said I¡¯m an experiment. That means¡­ {Truth Learned: Where am I? What does SHOCKS want with me?} {Active Skill Learned: Slither - Worm your way out of danger¡ªor past it} {Stability 4/10} I can¡¯t lie to myself anymore. It¡¯s been nice to hold on to the hope that they¡¯re trying to cure me of some disease, but I¡¯m not sick. I¡¯m fine. Better than fine. And they know it. My head swims and blurs as the Truth settles in. I¡¯m in a lab or research base, not a prison or a hospital. That¡¯s good. I can find answers in a lab. And maybe my new powers can help. I settle down and wait. If Doctor Ramirez does his job right, I¡¯ll move somewhere else soon. Hopefully, it¡¯s somewhere with more answers, not less.
My augs reboot over and over as Doctor Ramirez and some other labcoat-clad researcher fiddle with them until, at last, the words ¡®Read Mode Only¡¯ flicker into my vision, replacing the ¡®Offline¡¯ that¡¯s been there. ¡°You can get up now and open your other eye,¡± Doctor Ramirez says. My vision swims for a minute as ¡®Read Only Mode¡¯ fades, and I can finally take in my room. I refuse to call it a cell, even though that¡¯s the truth. I have an airlock-style door that doesn¡¯t open from the inside, with a pair of plexiglass windows so I can see the hall on the other side. The bedroom is a little bigger than the basic living apartment¡¯s cramped living room and includes a bed and desk that almost look like they could be a fifteen-year-old¡¯s but feel a little too ¡®government agency.¡¯ A computer sits on the desk. And, just as I suspected, the Revolver sits in its own chamber, embedded into the wall next to my door. Ramirez¡ªDoctor Twitchy, even now¡ªand the other doctor, Bettis or something, leave, and I wander around in my hospital gown until I find a closet. Plain white T-shirts and cargo pants; someone¡¯s looked me up. I grab one of everything¡ªand an off-white hoodie¡ªand slip into the bathroom. When I¡¯m out, dressed, and feeling less like a lab rat and more like a human, Smith is waiting for me. With a contract. ¡°Clarice¡ª¡° ¡°Claire.¡± ¡°Claire, signing this authorizes us to deploy you with the Lambda-Four Recovery and Stabilization Team as a possible combatant in abnormal situations. By signing this, you acknowledge that your status as an anomalous human overrides your Canadian citizenship rights. You also acknowledge the receipt of the perks and concessions within the contract.¡± Smith doesn¡¯t look any less stressed. If anything, he¡¯s more tired, more irritable, and less patient. So, even though I hate it, I flip through every page, trying to make sense of legalese and check that all my conditions are inside. There¡¯s text about some sort of help for Dad and Alice, but not until the current Qishi-Danger event is over. I raise my eyebrow, and Smith snatches the contract out of my hands. He reads for a second. ¡°Best we can do. Every SHOCKS resource in the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone is going into solving Merge Prime, maintaining containment on our Xuduo and Qishi anomalies, and keeping the public from panicking. We¡¯re failing on all fronts, so tomorrow, you¡¯ll meet Lambda-Four, get a crash course on working with them, and get to work.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± It feels like I¡¯ve been saying that a lot today. I read through the rest of the contract, which includes phrases like ¡®heretofore will comply with¡¯ and ¡®henceforth will be under the employment of,¡¯ and then sign my name. My full name¡ªClarice Alora Pendleton¡ªeven though I hate it. ¡°Thank you for your future service, Clarice,¡± Smith says, once again ignoring my name. He grabs the contract back and starts walking to the door. ¡°Doctor Ramirez will be by to introduce you to Lambda-Four tomorrow.¡± I spend some time fiddling with my aug, trying to see what Level A clearance with SHOCKS gives me. It turns out it¡¯s not much. There¡¯s a list of Danger Levels for anomalies¡ªAnquan, Geren, Xuduo, and Qishi. Anquan anomalies aren¡¯t really dangerous to someone who¡¯s ready for them, while Qishi could be province or world-ending. Geren and Xuduo fall in between. Thinlings are probably Geren, then? They seemed pretty dangerous. Maybe lower? I¡¯m not sure, so I keep digging. There¡¯s no more information, though. What did James call them? I can¡¯t remember. I can also access a list of over one hundred anomalies in containment at this facility¡ªwhich, I notice, has its name blacked out. Most of them are just quick descriptions and blacked-out text. So much blacked-out text. I also find my person of interest file. As I read through it, I can¡¯t help but smile to myself. I was right. The playground, the bus stop, and basic living? They were watching the whole time. Claire - Just before I go to sleep¡ªthese lights don¡¯t turn out unless I want them to¡ªI spot two additions to the room. One, the security cameras in the corners, is unwelcome but expected. I didn¡¯t ask for the other, but almost as much as the clothes, it convinces me I¡¯ve made the right choice for now. It¡¯s a digital alarm clock, and it¡¯s 10:53 pm. Chapter Nine [VVI 5389-4 Profile] Person of interest (Victoria/Vancouver Island) 5389-4, also known as Clarice Alora Pendleton, was born at Saxe Point Hospital on June 15, 2029. The youngest of two daughters of Robert Pendleton and Isabelle Renault, Clarice became a person of interest along with her family in 2033 when they found themselves in the middle of a merge event with R-091. Her mother and father were designated 5389-1 and -2, respectively, while her sister, Alice Marie Pendleton, was designated -3. Unfortunately, Isabelle was killed during the merge with R-091. In the aftermath of the R-091-23 merge, Doctor Adam Smith worked with her after multiple rounds of amnestics proved ineffective or were rejected. When the five-year-old realized she was being manipulated and misinformed, she immediately stopped interacting¡ªa highly mature decision for such a young child. After some discussion, the family was released, and false memories were planted in Clarice, her father, and her sister. Doctor Adam Smith distributed the amnestics. Both Robert and Alice Pendleton were removed from the POI list after three years without anomalous contact, but Clarice encountered potential merges at a much higher-than-normal rate, and surveillance continued on her throughout her life. Even once it became clear that her encounters were accidental, SHOCKS continued observing throughout her elementary and middle school careers and into her first year of high school. Clarice has developed an acute interest in mathematics as a discipline, an anti-authoritarian attitude toward most of her teachers, and a very small, tight circle of friends. At fifteen, she¡¯s grown increasingly aware of SHOCKS surveillance, including direct eye contact with agents at least twice; as such, she is to be observed remotely or with passive security systems carrying the Sketchbook protocol virus. Direct contact with Clarice Pendleton should only be made in the event that she directly interacts with SHOCKS or a merge zone. There is a possibility of recruitment when she turns eighteen, as her paranoia, interest in truth-seeking, and close contact with multiple anomalies lend themselves well to potential SHOCKS employment. However, her anti-authoritarian attitude makes her more of a potential risk. - Doctor Adam Smith ¡­ ¡­ [Update - Class Three Clearance Required] As of May 24, 2043, employment with SHOCKS will no longer be considered an option. Any indication that VVI 5389-4 is interested in SHOCKS beyond curiosity and apprehension should be met with extreme discouragement. - Doctor Paul Ramirez ¡­ ¡­ [Update - Class Three Clearance Required] As of May 26, 2043, Clarice Pendleton should immediately be considered for employment as Level A personnel. Give her what she wants, have her replace the missing Lambda-Four agent, and let¡¯s get this mess under control. - Director Adam Smith [Back]
Location Unknown, May 28, 2043, 4:30 AM - - - - - The alarm goes off, jolting me from my too-few hours of sleep. I¡¯ve spent most of the night bouncing from one nightmare to the next¡ªswarms of thinlings climbing the basic living apartments¡¯ walls, Sora under the bleachers looking like Mr. Roberts, or Alice running down an infinite hall¡ªso I¡¯m not well-rested. But then again, I rarely am. The recent nightmares are a nice change of pace from the old ones. Something fresh. ¡°573-V-1/IO, orientation and training for your role with Lambda-Four begins in twenty minutes.¡± Doctor Twitchy doesn¡¯t sound less nervous over the intercom, and I see him at the door, holding down a button. ¡°We¡¯ll release you into L4-5¡¯s custody in twelve minutes. Breakfast is provided. Eat quickly and get dressed.¡± He steps away as I drag my sorry, exhausted butt out of bed. I catch him punching in the code to unlock the Revolver¡¯s box, and it doesn¡¯t look different, but it¡¯s hard to tell. I¡¯m distracted by the scrambled eggs and warm pop-tart that I¡¯ve just noticed on my desk, and by the twelve-minute timer ticking down. They¡¯re okay¡ªbetter than cafeteria breakfasts, but not as good as homemade ones when Alice used to make them. I eat and get dressed, then wait a painfully slow two minutes until the door hisses open. A black-armored man steps through¡ªhe looks like one of the guards Smith had¡­yesterday? Was it just yesterday? Like one of those guards, but unarmed. No, not quite unarmed. He¡¯s got a pistol on his belt, but he¡¯s not carrying a big gun. Without a helmet, his buzz-cut dark brown hair and goatee look almost friendly. Maybe that¡¯s just because I¡¯ve been trapped in here, or maybe it¡¯s because he¡¯s smiling and it seems genuine. I don¡¯t think Dr. Twitchy or Smith smiled once. Not real smiles, at least. ¡°L4-5, but you can call me Strauss if we¡¯re not on a mission. Glad to see you made it,¡± the soldier says. His smile wavers. ¡°You¡¯ll be L4-3.¡± There¡¯s something there, but I ignore it. He hands me a name badge. ¡®573-V-1/IO, Clarice Pendleton, Level A, L4-3,¡¯ it reads, in a row. I stick it to my hoodie. It¡¯s nice to see I¡¯m a name, not just a number. ¡°Claire.¡± He gestures toward the door, and I step out of a cell for the first time since the experiments¡ªand into relative freedom for the first time since my sister¡¯s graduation. We pass down a long, sterile hallway filled with cells labeled ¡®Geren,¡¯ followed by a number. Each one¡¯s window blacks out for a few moments as we go by. Clearly, I¡¯m not supposed to see inside, and also clearly, SHOCKS is tracking me. Strauss¡ªI¡¯m not calling him L4-5¡ªnotices and nods as we jog down the hall. ¡°Your augs are wired into the SHOCKS intranet now. The building won¡¯t let you see anything you¡¯re not meant to see. Any time you¡¯re out of containment and over fifteen feet from an approved chaperone, the building will get a warning. Chaperones are L4-1, L4-2, L4-4, the Director, Doctor Ramirez, and me. Same thing any time you try to access information outside your clearance. Tracking is on in the building, but L4-1 will have a remote setup when we¡¯re in the field since the big wigs broke our internet connections.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± I say between breaths. My Endurance hasn¡¯t increased, and I¡¯m not running for my life, so I¡¯m not giving this my all. We duck through a door into a wide cafeteria, and I let Strauss take the lead. The second I do, he stops, and his hand drops to his hip. I keep moving, reevaluating. The friendly smile at my door? That was genuine. So¡¯s his defensive motion. So Strauss likes me for some reason, but he¡¯s¡­afraid? That doesn¡¯t ring true. He doesn¡¯t look afraid, just serious. I¡¯ll come back to that later, too. We keep jogging, through the all-but-empty cafeteria. A handful of doctors and a pair of black-garbed soldiers sit at a few tables, eating breakfast. If it¡¯s really 4:45 in the morning, I don¡¯t envy them for keeping this schedule. Are they finishing the night shift, or are they the morning shift coming in? No one looks well-rested except for Strauss. In fact, most of the faces in the cafeteria look even more tired than Doctor Twitchy and Smith. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, pointing. ¡°Geren/Staff cafeteria, eighth level. For the less dangerous humanoid anomalies, like you, having scheduled social interactions with other, approved anoms while under observation helps you out more than the risk of information leaking or danger. We¡¯re supposed to protect society from you, but that doesn¡¯t include throwing away the keys completely. Usually.¡± Strauss is a fountain of information. I ask him questions about every room we pass, from cells to the cafeteria to a locked, unlabeled door. ¡°That one¡¯s past your clearance,¡± he says about those. I make a note to figure out what¡¯s behind door number one as soon as I can. They¡¯re hiding some sort of juicy truth in there. Then, suddenly, he turns through another airlock and launches a salute at a 20-something woman with dark, curled hair in a ponytail. Her skin¡¯s the color of natural beach sand, and she nods at me and holds something in her hand. A pistol, grip out toward me. ¡°Welcome to Lambda-Four,¡± she says. Her voice is clipped, restrained, and serious. Is the whole squad serious? I guess so¡ªit must be a boogeyman soldier thing. ¡°You¡¯re¡­L4-3 in our comms. I¡¯m L4-1, Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez. Today, we¡¯re working on basic tactics and comms. That¡¯s all we¡¯ll have time for. The Director needs our asses out there, so let¡¯s get to it.¡± I take the gun. It feels warm in my hand; I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s Rodriguez¡¯s hand or the weapon itself. It¡¯s not the Revolver, but it¡¯ll do. ¡°Thanks. Am I supposed to be fighting?¡± ¡°Yes. As an anomalous human signed up during the Gutenberg protocol, you¡¯ve waived your rights as a minor. For our purposes, you¡¯re a Level A SHOCKS employee, with the same responsibilities as any other Level A.¡± She points to a locker room. ¡°Let¡¯s get you fitted.¡±
I don¡¯t recognize myself in the mirror. The hoodie and cargo pants are still on, but I¡¯ve got knee pads on each knee, an oversized military-style armored vest strapped around my chest, and a helmet that makes my head look twice as big as it should. Olivia¡ª¡®Lieutenant Rodriguez on duty, Pendleton!¡¯¡ªcouldn¡¯t find anything my size. That¡¯s not surprising, somehow. I¡¯m getting the impression that the whole place is hanging on by a thread.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Whatever. The point is that I look like an ill-fitting suit of riot police armor on top of a high school misfit¡¯s baggy clothes, which is accurate. ¡°Only have time for a few lessons. Smith¡¯s moving our timetable up.¡± Rodriguez says as I emerge from the locker room. The new room¡¯s a waiting room¡ªthere are a half-dozen chairs, all empty, muzak on the speakers, and a coffee smell so strong I wrinkle my nose. Strauss rolls his eyes. ¡°What does he expect us to do with a greenie?¡± ¡°What we can. Pendleton, ever played a shooter?¡± Rodriguez stares at me with intense brown eyes. ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m more used to Knights of the Apocalypse,¡± I say. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s see if you have any bad habits. The training course is set for novice difficulty. You¡¯re going in with Strauss. Opposition is Type-Two Incomprehensibles. We pulled you out of that high school, so we know you¡¯ve seen them. Strauss, she¡¯s got point. Don¡¯t shoot your teammates.¡± Rodriguez presses a button, and a door opens on the room¡¯s far side. ¡°You¡¯ll use that pistol, not your anomalous weapon.¡± ¡°Ladies first,¡± Strauss says, gesturing with a submachine gun. The second I¡¯m through the door, my helmet¡¯s visor flickers, and an overlay covers the wood-and-steel mock-up buildings inside the huge, concrete-and-steel hangar. I¡¯m in an upper-class residential block¡ªI can tell from the distance between doors and the lack of inappropriate graffiti. ¡°L4-3, you¡¯re point. You go first. I¡¯ll talk your ear off as we move,¡± Strauss says. ¡°First lesson. Radio silence. Keep comms clear when we¡¯re on a real mission unless you have mission-important information. If you do, call-outs by designation. Your helmet¡¯s got a little map with L4¡¯s relative positions. We¡¯re leaving L4-1 behind.¡± I watch as, sure enough, the dot labeled L4-1 moves farther behind the L4-5 and L4-3 dots. I nod, my helmet flopping a little. ¡°This is Simulation One-I,¡± Strauss continues. ¡°There¡¯s an Incomp inside¡ª¡° ¡°Thinling.¡± ¡°Negative. We don¡¯t use nicknames that don¡¯t refer to SHOCKS database entries. An Incomp¡¯s inside the building to our left. I want to see how you handle it, so you¡¯re up.¡± The simulation is fake, but I understand why it exists. I move up to the door, with Strauss shadowing me about five feet back. Then I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it. The pistol in my hand goes up, just like the revolver, and I spin into the frame. The thinling stands/looms/crouches in the middle of the room. For a moment, it¡¯s impossible to describe, an animal/monster/machine, but then my aug heats up. The words ¡®Filter Engaged¡¯ pop into the top right corner of my vision, and I see its six-legged, wolf-like body. I pull the trigger. As I hold it down, a half-dozen pops jerk my arm up and to the right, and the recoil shivers up my forearm. It¡¯s not like firing the Revolver; half my shots miss, but the first three hit the thinling square in its plated body, punching holes through the armor. I pull the trigger again, putting a fourth shot into the thinling¡¯s jaws, and it dies. ¡°Easy,¡± I say. "What about the one in the hall?¡± Strauss asks. The hall door explodes inward as a whirling/spinning/howling thinling plows toward me. I scream and unload the last four shots from my pistol. They all miss. A moment later, my aug filters the monster. {Skill Learned: Pistol Mastery 1: Skill Merged with Revolver Mastery} As the thinling¡¯s blades scythe toward me, I use Slither, and the monster slashes the air where I was. I¡¯m two feet back, though, out of its reach. It caroms off the floor, and Strauss¡¯s submachine gun tears it apart. He stares for a second, and I smile, but it¡¯s a short-lived one. ¡°Lesson here. Check the exits as soon as the room¡¯s clear.¡± The shells haven¡¯t even hit the floor, and he¡¯s already telling me how I¡¯ve messed up. My face burns. He knew it was coming, but he didn¡¯t warn me. I nod once and reload the pistol, awkwardly shoving a magazine from my body armor into it. ¡°We keep going, then?¡± ¡°Yep. You¡¯re up front. I¡¯ll be five to ten yards back. Tell me what¡¯s going on up there.¡± ¡°Why are you so far back?¡± I step through the door¡¯s wreckage, pistol wavering in my hand. ¡°Because if you walk into some nasty visual meme before your augs or helmet can catch it, or something jumps out of thin air and slaps you all the way across the room, your backup needs time to react.¡± I nod. Then I step into the next room, gun up. There¡¯s nothing. I take a deep breath and relax. It¡¯s a kitchen, complete with a sink that¡¯s still running, a door that looks like it leads to a back porch, and a pie that I can¡¯t smell. I remember that this is all a lie. No, not a lie. No one¡¯s pretending it¡¯s real. It¡¯s make-believe. ¡°L4-3, is it clear?¡± Strauss asks from the hall. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the kind of information you want to pass on.¡± ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you tell me that before?¡± I ask, trying not to snap at him. Strauss sighs, his gun pointed at the door. ¡°This is all basic stuff, L4-3. L4-1, stop the simulation. We¡¯re going to run it again from the beginning.¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez¡¯s voice fills my aug. ¡°Do we have time for that? Smith wants us deployed this afternoon.¡± ¡°The alternative is going into Victoria with a greeny. Greenies either turn themselves into reddies, or someone else.¡± I¡¯m not part of this conversation, but I can hear it just fine. It¡¯s just like Dad and Alice¡¯s conversation last year when they¡¯d finally had enough of me talking about what happened to Mom, before they teamed up to try to explain to me what ¡®really¡¯ happened. Rodriguez says, ¡°I¡¯ll take over the crash course. You go talk to Smith.¡± It¡¯s just like that conversation. Dad got up off the couch long enough to talk to the middle school principal, Mrs. Lemons, about my outbursts, and Alice¡ªperfect fucking Alice¡ªhad the ¡®big sister to little sister¡¯ talk, but I needed that when I was five, not fourteen. The two SHOCKS soldiers are even running the same plan. Send the guy to talk to someone else while the woman big-sisters me into listening. I won¡¯t let it work, though. It didn¡¯t work then, and it won¡¯t work now.
{Skill Learned: Urban Combat 1} {Skill Learned: Endurance 3} By the time ¡®training¡¯ with Lieutenant Rodriguez is over, I¡¯ve decided I was wrong. She¡¯s not playing the ¡®big sister/little sister¡¯ card. In fact, after the hundredth time the simulation stops and she starts shouting about my latest mistake, I realize that Strauss was the ¡®big brother¡¯ figure the whole time. ¡®Left, then right, L4-3.¡¯ ¡®Clear all three rooms, L4-3.¡¯ ¡®Make sure your partner¡¯s with you, L4-3.¡¯ It¡¯s felt never-ending, and I¡¯m thrilled to see Doctor Twitchy. The doctor doesn¡¯t look any less nervous, especially when Lieutenant Rodriguez stares him in the eye. He clears his throat. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to take Subject Claire to the Geren cafeteria. You¡¯re deploying in two hours, and Smith wants her acclimated for when you return.¡± ¡°She needs a breather before we deploy anyway. L4-3, dismissed.¡± I glare at her, and she stares at me intensely, just like she¡¯s been doing for the last three hours. My legs feel like Jello from running, jumping, and crouching, and I pull off my harness and helmet and look around for somewhere to put them. ¡°Keep them with you. There¡¯s a spot in your cell¡¯s airlock for them,¡± Rodriguez says, nodding. She does take the pistol, though. I nod back, grudgingly. That¡¯s another difference between Alice and Rodriquez. Alice would have lied to me constantly, but for all that the lieutenant didn¡¯t tell me everything, what she did tell me was the truth. I doubt I¡¯ll get the same treatment from Doctor Twitchy. ¡°How many other, uh, Geren-Danger people are in here?¡± I ask. He looks up at a security camera, and I follow his gaze. Is he trying to tell me he can¡¯t say because we¡¯re being watched, or is it just him being twitchy? I don¡¯t know. ¡°That¡¯s classified past your clearance. We¡¯re keeping your contact to a minimum, though; the cafeteria¡¯s mostly cleared, except for on-site security, a few researchers, and Li Mei. She goes where she wants.¡± I open my mouth to ask what he means by that, but he holds up a hand. ¡°Past your clearance. She¡¯s Xuduo-danger and borderline uncontainable. She doesn¡¯t discuss her anomalies beyond the basics and stays ¡®contained¡¯ in the Geren-danger and Anquan-danger wings unless we need her. In return, we don¡¯t try to hook a URA to her, get half our security killed, and end up in a Qishi-breach lockdown for a week like last time, when she started opening boxes that shouldn¡¯t be. It¡¯s easier this way.¡± From last night¡¯s reading, Qishi is the most dangerous level of anomaly, and Xuduo is right behind it. Whoever this Li Mei is, she¡¯s not to be messed with. The cafeteria is still all but empty, just like before. A trio of black-clad soldiers stand at points around the room, watching two researchers eat. A third man in a lab coat sits with what looks like a mummy at first glance. Fresh white cloth covers every inch of the woman¡¯s skin, so thick and tight I can¡¯t see any skin below except for one charcoal-black strip where her eyes are uncovered. They stare at me, two dark pools with no whites, and I try to look away but find myself stuck. She could be sixteen or sixty. There¡¯s no way to know. ¡°That¡¯s Li Mei. Ideally, she¡¯ll ignore you. If not, be polite. Don¡¯t tell her anything about your containment, which anomaly you¡¯ve bonded with, or your clearance. If she asks you any questions, don¡¯t answer them if you can avoid it, and don¡¯t touch her. She¡¯s not supposed to know much about you, and, without telling you too much, she¡¯s an infovore. Which means¡­¡± Doctor Twitchy shivers, and I can see a bead of sweat moving down his brow. ¡°If she wants to know, she¡¯ll learn it without our help.¡± I blink, and Doctor Twitchy is gone. In his place sits Li Mei. Apparently, she can also teleport. This close, there¡¯s a scent¡ªsomething citrusy but woody at the same time¡ªthat I can¡¯t get out of my nose. A merge smell. The two eyes lock onto mine, and the mouth between her cloth covering moves. ¡°Li-Mei. You¡¯re Claire.¡± Her voice is melodic and light, with a hint of a Chinese accent. ¡°Y-yes,¡± I say, as Doctor Twitchy and the researcher who¡¯d just been sitting with Li Mei both stand. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s hand reaches for his panic button, and all three guards stiffen. I hold out my hand to shake. She might be a terrifying, charcoal-skinned mummy, but Li Mei doesn¡¯t seem so bad. ¡°No thanks. I don¡¯t do touch.¡± Li Mei recoils, pulling her hands back like she¡¯s afraid to touch me. ¡°And please don¡¯t ask me any questions. I won¡¯t answer them, and I won¡¯t ask you any. It¡¯s not a containment thing, just a survival one¡­for both of us. I nod. Doctor Twitchy warned me about that. I don¡¯t know what Li Mei can do, but she¡¯s already teleported across the room, so she¡¯s clearly disgustingly powerful. I file her requests away. The no-touching thing is easy. The no-questions thing is way more complicated; I have a million. I settle for making a new Inquiry. {Inquiry: Li Mei and Infovores} Doctor Twitchy hustles up, red-faced, with another researcher right behind him. ¡°Claire, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t expect her to be interested right away. Subject - 043-V-23/IVTP, please return to your cell.¡± ¡°No, but thank you for the request,¡± Li Mei says. ¡°I think I¡¯ll stay here and chat. I¡¯m not hurting anyone, after all.¡± ¡°Have it your way,¡± he turns toward me. ¡°Since she wants to talk, here¡¯s what you¡¯re cleared for. Subject - 043-V-23/IVTP, aka Li Mei, is an¡ª¡° ¡°Information vampire,¡± Li Mei says. ¡°In the interest of disclosure, the short version. Don¡¯t ask or answer questions. Don¡¯t make direct physical contact. Volunteering information or listening to tidbits I volunteer won¡¯t cause a¡ªand I quote from my containment on this one¡ª¡®rage state.¡¯ I call them hunger pangs, though.¡± ¡°So, you, uh¡­¡± ¡°Eat memories, yes,¡± the other researcher interrupts. ¡°And other information. I¡¯m from Hong Kong Walled City. My parents left when I got to be too much to handle. They were looking for a place where people wouldn¡¯t accidentally ask me questions. I¡¯ve got over ninety deaths to my name, sadly, all from hunger pangs. We were fleeing when I got picked up at the airport. I¡¯ve been here ever since¡ªthirty years,¡± Li Mei says. She doesn¡¯t sound like she¡¯s in her thirties or forties, but she also doesn¡¯t sound like she¡¯s lying about it. ¡°There. I¡¯ve shared some information, and no hunger pangs. Your turn.¡± I open my mouth to talk, but Doctor Twitchy steps in. ¡°That¡¯s not quite true. Claire, go get some food. I¡¯ll tell Li Mei what she needs to know¡ªwithin reason, Li Mei. You¡¯ve got twenty minutes. Don¡¯t waste them.¡± As I nod slowly and walk toward the buffet-style lunch, I can hear his voice drop, and he starts rattling off things I¡¯m not supposed to know about myself. I turn my head, and Li Mei waves. I¡¯ll figure out how to ask her what she¡¯s learned about me later. Chapter Ten [Anomalous Message, May 23, 2043] At 11:49 AM, May 23, 2043, televisions, cellular phones, and both optic and aural augments worldwide received the following message: {Halcyon System Enabled} {Sol-Three has been infected. Initiating self-defense protocols. Enabling System interfaces. Allowing Anomalous/Sapient interactions with System approval. If bonded with an anomaly, please enter a resting state to enable System/Sapient interaction.} A second message arrived a minute later, shortly after SHOCKS technicians began deleting the first, and was intercepted before it could be completed. {Initiating Anti-Interference Countermeasures. Time to brea¡ª} The Phalanx Threat Hunter program cut off the rest of the message. Shortly after, the program was digitally attacked violently enough to physically damage the servers hosting it. The full message ended up in the Broken Shade protocol¡¯s holding system. {Initiating Anti-Interference Countermeasures. Time to breach: ten hours.} Intense efforts by SHOCKS digital warfare specialists have extended the likely time until Ostrich and Wiretap fail to just over seventy hours while simultaneously working on a new protocol to clear the anomaly, designated 0-G-4/U1-Beta, from communications systems worldwide. Unfortunately, no progress has been made on a solution. Further, Beta is a highly adaptable anomaly and will likely find backdoors through Ostrich 1¡¯s firewalls that increase vulnerability in Ostrich 2. [Update] On May 26, 2043, SHOCKS digital warfare specialists announced that Beta would defeat Wiretap, Ostrich 1, and Ostrich 2 within six hours. Protocols are in place for post-communication SHOCKS operations, including read-only air-gapped files, paper record-keeping, and increased director autonomy. [Back]
Victoria, British Columbia - May 28, 2043, 1:34 PM - - - - - My throat feels dry, and I can¡¯t help but stare at the other three Recovery and Stabilization Team troopers in the armored truck¡¯s rear compartment. Sergeant Strauss keeps fiddling with the half-dozen gizmos in his go-bag, and L4-2 and Lieutenant Rodriguez pretty much ignore me. With L4-4 driving, that leaves me by myself. I play with my helmet¡¯s buckle and try to remember who the other two Lambda-Four troopers are. They introduced themselves as the truck started, but I forgot their names. I¡¯m usually not bad at remembering, but I¡¯ve got a lot on my mind. Trying to figure out SHOCKS¡¯s interest in me, their Level A personnel thing, and what the hell¡¯s going on outside. Puzzling out the Halcyon System. And, of course, plotting ways to escape, or at least to get a message to Sora or Dad. Rodriguez¡ªL4-1¡ªlooks up at me, or at least her visor does. Before we boarded, she made sure everyone¡¯s helmet was set to filter against memetic anomalies, whatever those are, so when she looks at me, all I see is a silvery shield covering her whole face. If it weren¡¯t for the breast patch labeled ¡®L4-1,¡¯ I wouldn¡¯t even be sure it was her. Mine says ¡®L4-3,¡¯ but underneath it, it also says ¡®Level A.¡¯ It¡¯s velcroed on, not sewn. I have no idea what we¡¯re about to see. There hasn¡¯t been a briefing yet, or at least I wasn¡¯t invited if there was. Instead, Doctor Twitchy dropped me off at my room/cell, and I stayed there until Rodriguez picked me up. From there, it was right into the truck. How can I trust Lambda Four if they won¡¯t tell me what we¡¯re getting into? How can I trust SHOCKS to keep me safe when they seem to think the whole team¡¯s expendable? Strauss sure thinks we are. I looked up the slang ¡®greenie¡¯ and ¡®reddie¡¯ while locked in my room. Greenies are troops with no business being in the field. Reddies are dead. I look at Strauss, but he doesn¡¯t return the look. He¡¯s busy with what looks like a fluorescent lightbulb in a black steel cage. The cage and power supply have a dozen warnings scrawled across them¡ªlike ¡®do not point at people¡¯ and ¡®avoid skin contact.¡¯ He doesn¡¯t trust me on this mission, so I can¡¯t trust him either. My aural aug pops, and a familiar, British-sounding voice fills my ear. ¡°Hello, L4-3, Claire Pendleton. This is James. I¡¯ll be running your personalized briefing. This afternoon, Lambda-Four is investigating an instantaneous merge that left behind something in the View Royal area. Level is between Geren and Xuduo-Danger, depending on how many people have been affected. We got the Merge Warning a day ago, but this is the first time we¡¯ve been able to do more than remotely monitor the area, and there¡¯s a memetic anomaly. Normally, that wouldn¡¯t be an issue, but with Vased Flower protocols broken, researchers can¡¯t risk watching the footage until we develop countermeasures.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a memetic anomaly?¡± I ask. Rodriguez¡¯s visor shifts toward me, then back to her weapon. She¡¯s got a submachine gun. The whole team does except for me. I¡¯ve got the Revolver instead. James responds. ¡°It¡¯s a visual symbol, typically, that¡¯s highly contagious. They get in your brain and mess with you. Since we haven¡¯t gotten visuals yet, we can¡¯t be sure what class of meme you¡¯re up against, so we¡¯ve loaded up your augs and helmet with the standard antimemetics suite, plus some heavy-hitting countermemes in the truck¡¯s database. You¡¯re perfectly safe.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°As for the job itself, you¡¯re heading into one of the big tower complexes. We think that¡¯s where the meme ¡ªor whatever created it¡ªis. Lambda-Four¡¯s mission is to destroy the memes¡¯ scripts, stop anything that¡¯s drawing them, and deploy mobile Universal Reality Anchors to restabilize the area. Questions?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Pick one. Thirty seconds until deployment,¡± James says. ¡°What makes memes?¡± ¡°Several options. Incomprehensibles usually don¡¯t. Usually. Type Fives and a few others do sometimes, but you don¡¯t have to worry about those. Most of the time, we see cults stumble on a meme or Eldritch anomalies creating them. When it¡¯s an Eldritch, hope for a One, Two, or Three. Higher than that, and it becomes a problem. Then there are Memetic Infohazards, and self-perpetuating memes. And finally, weaponized ones, but that¡¯s not what we think we have here.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not like the memes kids at school share, though?¡± I ask. ¡°Ha. Yes, but also very much no. They¡¯re just as viral. Much more dangerous, though. Five seconds,¡± James says. The truck falls silent except for the massive engine humming. It lurches to a stop, and the back door lowers to form a ramp. ¡°Perimeter!¡± Rodriguez says. I hear her voice through an earbud in my unaugmented ear, and I hurry out of the truck. While Strauss gathers his go-bag, the rest of us peer through the street-level smog or up into the concrete facade of the apartment tower looming over us. There¡¯s not a single person on the street. Up about fifteen floors, though, all the shades are open. All of them, on the whole floor. Rodriguez points, drawing our attention to it. ¡°That¡¯s our target. Order is Four, Three, One, Five, Two. Weapons secure, standard rules of engagement. Confirm your targets are hostile, less-than-lethal first. Be ready to go weapons-free.¡± L4-4 hurries into the lobby, submachine gun pointed in front of him. It¡¯s plain concrete inside, too. Time hasn¡¯t been kind to it. ¡°Elevator?¡± he asks. ¡°Negative. Stairs up to the thirteenth floor. Two, keep our backs safe. Four, we¡¯ll alternate covering stairwell entrances. Three, stay cool,¡± Rodriguez says. I put my hand on the Revolver¡¯s grip and pull it out, but keep it facing the floor. Something¡¯s going to attack us. I just know it. We hurry up the maintenance stairwell, feet pounding on the metal grate steps, with Rodriguez and L4-4 taking turns covering each door until we¡¯re all past. And, somehow, nothing happens until we reach floor thirteen. I¡¯m out of breath, panting even though I have a rank or two of Endurance.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The thirteenth floor is dark, just like the ones below, but we stop at the landing anyway. Rodriguez clears her throat. ¡°James, plan?¡± James¡¯s voice fills my aug. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten the best blueprints I can, but it¡¯s tough without internet access. You¡¯re looking at, potentially, several hundred residents on the fifteenth floor. Maybe up to two thousand if everyone in the building¡¯s there, but most likely less. The anomaly could be everywhere by now. All filters are functional.¡± ¡°Got it. Up two more floors. Two, Four, keep the door secure. Three, you¡¯re on Five cover duty,¡± Rodriguez says. I wince, and Strauss¡¯s head flicks toward me for a moment before he nods. The team heads back up the stairs. As they do, I glare at my visor. I haven¡¯t been trained for this, and I¡¯m supposed to be covering Strauss? How do I do that? Make sure no one gets near him? I try not to shake, but I feel like such a liar¡ªjust going through the motions and copying L4-4 ahead of me. Then we hit the fifteenth-floor landing. L4-4 opens the door, and my visor lights up.
A dozen warnings flash across my visor; ¡®Overload,¡¯ ¡®Memetic Threat Detected: Countermeasures Engaged,¡¯ and so many more I can¡¯t read them. My vision goes blurry through the visor, and I can hear James typing. Then, one by one, they disappear until only ¡®Memetic Threat Detected: Countermeasures Engaged¡¯ blinks in yellow in the top left. ¡°Bringing your vision back to normal. Ignore the staticky bits. We¡¯re projecting a pattern that should neutralize the memes,¡± he says. My eye keeps getting drawn to the static all over the screen, but after a moment, I get the hang of things. By constantly moving my eyes, it¡¯s less obvious where they are. The floor¡¯s a standard habitation set-up, with a long hallway of apartments leading to an open central area. There¡¯ll be elevators there, a few benches and chairs, and some overpriced vending machines. I know; I¡¯ve lived in buildings like this since I was seven. We¡¯re in a basic living housing project, after all. Aside from the hall-and-commons construction, there¡¯s one more tiny thing to note. ¡°What the hell?¡± L4-2 says. I agree. There must be three hundred people packed into the hallway and courtyard. They¡¯re all pressing in around something in the middle, but it¡¯s impossible to tell what through the mass of people. It¡¯s like passing period at West End, but no one¡¯s moving. ¡°Follow me. Don¡¯t fire. We can¡¯t fight this many people, and they¡¯re likely infected by the anomaly. Two, Four, you¡¯re still on stair guard duty. Three, keep Five between us,¡± Rodriguez says. Strauss nods slowly. His voice sounds tight across the radio. ¡°Standard meme cult?¡± ¡°Eldritch Class Two,¡± James confirms. ¡°I¡¯ve analyzed the meme, deleted a key component, and am projecting the deletion over all similar images in your field of view.¡± As he speaks, the blurry, static-covered spots disappear. Instead, etched on every scrap of rusted metal and painted on the walls, is a pentagon with twisting, braided edges and a symbol that looks almost like an eye in the center¡ªbut one with teeth instead of eyelashes, maybe? Something right under the eye¡¯s covered by a black bar on my screen. There must be hundreds of them on every surface. Rodriguez speaks into our earbuds. ¡°Two, Four, don¡¯t let anyone leave. It¡¯s a Class Two-Propogating Meme.¡± ¡°Copy that,¡± L4-2 says. Rodriguez pushes into the crowd. No one reacts to her, not even when she shoves people out of the way. Strauss follows right behind, go-bag on his back and pistol in his hand, and I follow him. My heart pounds in my chest. I¡¯ve been in basic living for a long time¡ªthe smell of despair and frustration isn¡¯t a stranger¡ªbut that¡¯s not what I¡¯m feeling here. ¡°Rod¡ªOne, what¡¯s with the people?¡± ¡°Propagating Memes take over people¡¯s minds,¡± James says before Lieutenant Rodriguez can say anything, ¡°and compel them to reproduce the symbol or sound where other people can see it. Class Twos are pretty bad. They override all nonessential thoughts, which is why everything¡¯s covered in the meme. But, they self-contain if they start inside, since ¡®open the door¡¯ isn¡¯t an essential thought.¡± ¡°Right. So, we¡¯re going to walk through the crowd, get some idea of how much of the floor this is on and whether it¡¯s leaked out, then call in an amnestics team,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°I hate this shit,¡± Strauss mutters into his mic. ¡°Easy, Strauss.¡± I¡¯m having a hard time taking it easy, but we push through to the center, where a railing-lined walkway circles the cage-like elevators and a wide, open space leading down to the ground floor. Both lifts look like they¡¯re at the bottom, but what catches my eye is the thing on the ground that everyone¡¯s staring at. It looks exactly like the etchings around the room, but it¡¯s been burned next to one of the vending machines. Rodriguez shoves an old man out of the way. He staggers but recovers, not even noticing the woman in full body armor¡ªor her gun. ¡°Five, this is it. James?¡± ¡°Five should be able to erase it, but there¡¯s some risk with the Phenomenon - 237-V-13/MP - Alpha victims nearby.¡± James sounds uncertain. ¡°It¡¯d be best to call in an amnestics team and work through the crowd before you try. Smith¡¯s voice takes over. ¡°Denied. Amnestics teams aren¡¯t available for another five hours, and SHOCKS needs Lambda-Four for the next phase. We don¡¯t have time to control this mess for that long.¡± ¡°Understood. Fire up the editor.¡± Rodriguez brings her submachine gun to her shoulder. ¡°Lambda-Four, weapons free. Lethal force is acceptable. Keep the stairwell and L4-5 safe.¡± Strauss kneels and pulls the steel box out of his go-bag. I grip the Revolver¡¯s handle, my finger pressing hard on the trigger guard as he pushes the keypad over and over, then sets it over the burnt meme. Something¡¯s off. I watch as the residents¡¯ eyes shift from the picture to Strauss. He presses a green button. A humming fills the air as the device starts up. Then someone screams. A moment later, they¡¯re all screaming¡ªevery single resident. They rush Straus, and Rodriguez¡¯s submachine gun opens up in a rattling burst that rips into the oncoming wave. She¡¯s swarmed under by the crowd, which tears her helmet off and shoves her face right at one of the scrawled pictures on a wall. ¡°Strauss, Claire, get out of there!¡± James shouts. But there¡¯s nowhere to go. I aim the Revolver, but don¡¯t fire. Strauss¡¯s device hums louder and louder, and he picks up his pistol. It fires three times. Then he shouts loudly enough that I can hear him without the earbud. ¡°Greenie, move! We¡¯ll be okay, but go!¡± I stiffen, pulled right back to Mom¡¯s lie, and Alice¡¯s at West End High. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± they both told me. He¡¯s saying it, too, and no one ever means it. Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me with one hand while he fires his pistol into a door. The knob falls apart, and he shoves me inside, piles in behind me, and slams the door. ¡°The deadbolt!¡± He yells through my earbud. ¡°Get the deadbolt!¡± I slide the bolt shut with a click and look around. We¡¯re in a small living room¡ªthere¡¯s enough space for a TV and a twin bed but no other furniture. Cheap toys, just like Dad bought Alice and me when we were kids, litter the floor. And, to my relief, the ¡®Memetic Threat Detected¡¯ warning has disappeared. ¡°Control, James, Five reporting in. the residents are hostile. Three and I are in a one-bed residential unit. One is down, either K.I.A. or infected by the meme. Two and Four, check in.¡± ¡°Two here. Four and I went back through the door. We¡¯re in the stairwell. Please advise.¡± James doesn¡¯t say anything for a moment, and I hold my breath. Then, his voice fills my ears. ¡°I¡¯m assuming control of the mission. Your new goal is to hold the building, prevent escape attempts, and wait for extraction. Three, Five, you¡¯re Alpha. Two, Four, you¡¯re Beta. Alpha, there should be windows. Find them and report in. Beta, entrench as best you can. You¡¯re at a choke point. Do you have drones?¡± ¡°Back at the vehicle,¡± Two¡ªI think¡ªsays. ¡°One of you hold position. The other, collect the drone and any other defensive gear, plus the extra antimemetics,¡± James says. I¡¯m still on the ground, but Strauss has holstered his gun and set down the go-bag. I narrow my eyes at him as he talks. ¡°Three, we¡¯re okay. I¡¯ve been in worse pinches. James, I¡¯ve got three windows exiting back to the building¡¯s center, but they¡¯re too narrow to exit through. Checking the back room now. We have a possible exit out of the kids¡¯ bedroom.¡± A Halcyon System message pops up, and I breathe a sigh of relief. {Skill Acquired: Memetic Resistance 1 - Decreases Stability Loss from memetic anomalies by 1/rank. Increases resistance to memetic compulsions} It¡¯s not much at all, but it¡¯s something. ¡°Strauss, what happened to Rodriguez?¡± The man looks away. He¡¯s checking the kitchenette, even though there¡¯s no way there¡¯s a window there. ¡°We¡¯re going to follow James¡¯s instructions. We¡¯ll extract, then come back with the right plan to form a perimeter and edit the original image.¡± Something pounds on the door. I pull the Revolver, but don¡¯t fire. ¡°The door will hold, right?¡± ¡°Not sure. We¡¯re going out the bedroom window. We¡¯ll swing down to the fourteenth floor, make our way to the stairs, and reinforce Beta.¡± Strauss is all business. He¡¯s already digging through his go-bag for something. He comes up with a rope and what looks like a hook with suction cups all over it. My mind¡¯s on Rodriguez, though, not his idea to, what? Jump out a window? She¡¯s like the residents now, and I wonder if whatever¡¯s happened to her counts as bonding with an anomaly. Will the Halcyon System pick her up, or is this closer to being a thinling? ¡°Can you fix her?¡± Strauss snaps. ¡°Alpha, L4-1¡¯s going to be okay, but only if we can finish the mission. Let¡¯s fucking move.¡± I follow him to the kids¡¯ bedroom. It reminds me more of home than I¡¯d like; toys cover the floor, a boy¡¯s underwear sits piled on top of a mound of dirty clothes, and the two tiny beds are unmade. Are the kids out in the common area? Or¡ªthe thought hits me like a truck, and I try not to be sick¡ªdid Rodriguez or Strauss shoot them? Then Strauss hands me a strap with a metal clip on it. There¡¯s a lever on a steel device on the far side of the strap. I stare at the device. He clips it to my black chest armor, then fits his rope through the metal. He pulls his pistol, fires three shots into the window, and runs a gloved hand along the edge, knocking the remaining shards into the open air or the floor. ¡°Pull up on the lever to slow down. The fourteenth floor. Stop there.¡± I take a deep breath, looking over a hundred feet down. I can see the armored truck at the building''s base, but it looks more like a toy than the tank I¡¯d thought it was earlier. It¡¯s a long way down. Then I drop. My heart rockets up to my throat, and I pull on the lever to slow, then stop, my fall. I¡¯m hanging in space, next to a window. It looks just like the one I stepped out of three seconds ago, but it¡¯s got some sort of film on it, and I can¡¯t tell what¡¯s inside. ¡°Shoot the glass, then go feet-first through the window,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Hurry up. The infected are breaking in.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I say. I pull the Revolver and aim it at the window. As I pull the trigger, the flaming shot rushes forward, crashing into the window¡ªand pushing me back. The rope jerks out of my hand, the lever braking me gives, and I start plummeting, screaming. Then, I swing into a glass pane, which shatters around me. Chapter Eleven [Internal Communications Log] VVI Control Zone, May 28, 2043 Lieutenant Roger Garrett, A3-1; Director Adam Smith; Head Researcher Andre LeClerque - - - - - Smith: We¡¯ll lose control of Victoria within forty-eight hours. I want an evacuation plan on my desk in six. LeClerque: I have one now. Sending it over. Silence for a few moments. Garrett: Leaves a lot of people behind, and a lot of anomalies. What are we doing with them? Smith: You¡¯re sure you can pull this off? LeClerque: It requires full commitment from both RSTs, but we can punch a column through Victoria and cross the islands via boat. We¡¯ll pull all mobile Qishi and Xuduo containment cells, all personnel of Level Three and higher, and all RST-capable troops. I¡¯ve got a team of agents holding a ferry for us. Smith: Plan approved. Get your departments ready to move. You have until tomorrow at 1300. Garrett: The anomalies and lower-level personnel? What about them? Silence for a few moments. Garrett: Can we at least let the Ones and Twos know we¡¯re leaving? Silence. Log ends. ?¨‹? Victoria, British Columbia - May 28, 2043, 2:01 PM - - - - - The first thing I notice is pain, but it¡¯s not the sharp pain I had from crawling through Mrs. Helquist¡¯s window. This is more achy body pain and less the intense, clean pain of cuts and slashes. Then, a moment later, I realize I don¡¯t have my helmet anymore. It¡¯s not anywhere I can see. Not in the bedroom¡ªan adult¡¯s this time¡ªthat I¡¯ve crashed into. Visions of the mindless people infected by whatever that picture did fill my mind; I can¡¯t become one of those! I can¡¯t! My breathing picks up, and I turn toward the window. The rope still dangles there, and I reach for it, but a moment later, it starts falling. I watch it coil messily on the concrete at least a dozen floors below. Okay. Okay. I¡¯m alone in a basic living building, without the safety gear I need to make sure I stay¡­me? Yeah, me. But the briefing said all the danger was on the fifteenth floor, right? So if I can get down to the truck, I¡¯ll be okay. My aural aug pops, and a moment later, James¡¯s voice fills my ear. ¡°L4-5, I have her. She¡¯s not responding to her helmet, but I¡¯ve got her on her aug.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not sure which floor I¡¯m on. My helmet¡¯s gone. I can¡¯t find it anywhere.¡± ¡°Copy that, Three. We¡¯ll send someone to pick you up once we¡¯ve reestablished containment,¡± Strauss¡¯s voice says. He sounds stressed, and a moment later, I hear gunshots. ¡°For now, report back to the fifteenth floor. We need all our firepower at that door.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t¡ª¡° Smith¡¯s voice breaks in. ¡°L4-3, you are Level A personnel. Your job is to complete the tasks assigned to you and keep your teammates alive, not to act independently. Get to the fifteenth floor and help contain this. Lives depend on it.¡± Has he been listening this whole time? Why? Doesn¡¯t the director of the entire island have better things to do during what, according to him, is the possible end of the world? Instead of spying on me, he could be, I don¡¯t know, doing something! The apartment¡¯s not interesting; there are no threats here, just a single guy¡¯s dirty man cave, and I need to get moving. I start toward the door, which I¡¯m pretty sure opens onto the same common area but a few floors down. As I open it, I¡¯m greeted by wordless howling and screaming from above¡ªone that just about drowns out Strauss¡¯s editor, which is still running. I can¡¯t say what it''s editing, but it¡¯s not the meme. The device is somewhere below me. Someone must¡¯ve thrown it off the edge. I lift the Revolver and start heading for a stairwell. Luckily, all these basic living buildings are the same, so I have a pretty good idea of where I am. I turn the corner past a few vending machines. ¡°Shut your eyes and back up!¡± James says in my ear. ¡°Why?¡± I ask while backing up with my eyes closed. ¡°Got a meme up ahead. I have no idea how it got here. As far as we can tell, no one outside of the fifteenth floor is infected. Okay, you should be able to get by. I¡¯m going to run an antimemetic filter on your optic aug. Keep your other eye shut.¡± I squeeze my eye shut, and a moment later, a ¡®Filter Engaged¡¯ warning pops up in my vision. When I round the corner, it changes to ¡®Memetic Threat Detected, and the filter blurs out a bunch of the hallway. At the same time, my eye starts heating up, so I hurry down the hall past the blurred sections. But as I do, something walks through one of the apartment doors, seeming to phase straight through the faux wood. {Stability 3/10} My closed eye pops open, and for a moment, my head goes fuzzy as I see the symbol scrawled on a wall in something that might be blood or might be something else¡­
{Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 2} {Stability 2/10} My head pounds, but I look down anyway, staring at the half-painted symbol I¡¯ve been working on with fresh eyes. How long have I been out? I quickly close my eye, letting the aug take over, but all I get is ¡®Filter Engaged.¡¯ I¡¯ve lost two Stability, though, and even though I¡¯m back in control, my head swims. I don¡¯t remember painting the symbol on the wall, but whatever pulled me out of it, I¡¯m glad it did. ¡°L4-3, come in. Claire, do you hear me?¡± James asks. For a moment, I think about ignoring him. It¡¯d be easy to slip away¡ªexcept they¡¯re almost certainly tracking me, and James has been watching through my aug. Then I say, ¡°I¡¯m here. I¡­it let me go.¡± That¡¯s the truth¡ªor at least as close as I can get to it. ¡°Okay. We need to get you out of there. Whatever that was, it triggered every antimemetic program in our defenses. We don¡¯t have it on record, and wherever it shows up on screen, there¡¯s nothing but a blur, no matter which angle we look at. Can you describe it?¡± ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s shaped like a person, and it walked through the closed door. Dark colors, but I couldn¡¯t see any features. Is it a ghost? Do we have ghosts? James, if we have ghosts, you have to tell me.¡± Ghosts would be the worst, and if we have thinlings and infovampires, we could definitely have ghosts. That¡¯d be too much. Way too much!This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°It¡¯s not a ghost, but we do have them occasionally. Post-Life Entities are a different class, and antimemetics wouldn¡¯t cut them out. Your onboard one didn¡¯t, but a helmet-based system would have,¡± James says. ¡°I¡¯m going to guide you back up to the rest of the team. We¡¯ll get you a backup helmet, and you can start helping to contain this.¡± I follow his directions down the hall, keeping one eye closed and letting my aug heat up painfully as I go. The whole time, I keep looking for the dark, person-shaped thing that surged through the door. The truth¡ªthe one I didn¡¯t tell James, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯s figured out¡ªis that if it walked through the door, whatever sort of containment Recovery and Stabilization Team Lambda-Four is set up to do won¡¯t work here. The whole time I move, James keeps talking. ¡°237-V-13/MP - Alpha is probably a Class Two Memetic Entity. If so, keeping it under observation is critical, but you¡¯re not equipped to do it. If you see it, report its location and keep moving. L4 will have a drone up and running soon, and we¡¯ll track it from command.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± I say, lying. If I see it, I¡¯m following it. There¡¯s a truth there, and while I haven¡¯t made it an Inquiry, I want to know it for myself. I¡¯m actually in the stairwell when I see it floating below me, heading down. It slips through a door a floor below me, pushing through more like coffee through a filter than like it¡¯s not there. I turn and start following it. ¡°What are you doing, Claire?¡± James asks. "You need to get to the rest of L4. L4-5 is already there, and they¡¯re getting ready for another containment attempt.¡± ¡°This thing¡ª¡° {Painter (-1) - Memetic Entity} ¡°¡ªPainter,¡± I say, correcting myself, ¡°isn¡¯t contained. It¡¯s going to leave the building soon. You want someone to keep an eye on it? I¡¯m here, watching it.¡± ¡°No, my mission is to get L4 through this,¡± James says. ¡°If you get infected, the team will lose another member.¡± I push the door open, still looking through one eye, and watch it quickly paint the meme¡¯s braided pentagon on the wall. Then it pushes through another door, its body seeming to shimmer, and vanishes inside. Smith¡¯s voice fills my ear, sharp enough to cut and filled with tension. ¡°L4-3, this is a direct order. Return to your team.¡± ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m following it.¡± I check the door the Painter went through. Locked. I pull the Revolver again, sighting down the barrel at the lock¡¯s keypad. ¡°L4-3, stand down!¡± Smith says. ¡°Claire, no!¡± James shouts. I pull the trigger. The Revolver fills the hall with an orange light, and the shot obliterates the lock and everything behind it. I open the door before either James or Director Smith can start talking and stare at the Painter. It¡¯s still up, halfway through making another meme. It looks toward me, but I use Slither and get behind it, then Bullet Time to fire a triple-shot of flame into it. The world speeds up, and all three shots hit. I blink back the afterimages and point my gun at it, but that¡¯s not necessary. The Revolver¡¯s shot looks like it¡¯s killed it, whatever it was. It¡¯s black, with what almost looks like static around its edges, and no matter which angle I look at it from, the gray static only silhouettes it. That doesn¡¯t seem possible. James speaks in my ear, almost unbelieving. ¡°You¡­you killed it.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. I don¡¯t feel bad about it, though I would like to have known more about it. Smith¡¯s voice cuts in. ¡°Initiate Class-A personnel security measures.¡± A second later, my aural aug goes dead. So does my optic one, and I blink as my vision swims. My glasses aren¡¯t helping anymore, and I pull them off, but that doesn¡¯t help either. The whole world spins, and my heart pounds. Did they just shut down my augs? They¡¯ve downloaded enough software onto them. There had to be a shut-down process in there. And if they¡¯ve shut my augs down, then¡­ ¡­Then they¡¯re not on my side anymore. I stagger toward the door, and the whole world lurches with me. It takes me three tries to get the door open, and when it does, I can¡¯t help it. My stomach¡¯s churning, and I puke in the hallway. Whatever they¡¯re hitting me with, I can¡¯t see straight, and it feels like I¡¯m falling sideways, but all the time. I make it five steps. I even try Slither, but the tiniest reposition only makes the vertigo worse. Then I have to sit down against the wall. The stairwell door is right there. It¡¯s so close, but I can¡¯t even move my head. Instead, I sit there, eyes closed and Revolver held limply in one hand. I don¡¯t even fight back when L4 bursts through the door, kicks the Revolver away, and drags me down the stairs. The squad drags me back to the armored car, shoves me inside, and slaps an oxygen mask on my face. I try to struggle, but the spinning in my head makes it hopeless. My eyes shut, and I pass out.
When I wake up, I¡¯m back in the SHOCKS building, in my room. I check the door, but of course, it¡¯s locked. The Revolver is tucked away, safe inside its containment unit where I can¡¯t get to it, and the lights are on¡ªbut my alarm clock¡¯s off, and my computer is gone. I look around, and my head doesn¡¯t swim, so they must¡¯ve turned my augs back on. They read ¡®Offline¡¯ again. Other than that, there¡¯s nothing out of the ordinary. After only a few minutes, though, Director Smith appears in the airlock. The door doesn¡¯t open, but his voice echoes over the intercom. ¡°Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, I am here to debrief you on your mission. You disobeyed instructions from Command multiple times, leading to the termination of an irreplaceable anomaly. That behavior is unacceptable in our RST agents, and your employment with SHOCKS as a Level A is terminated. However, before we remand you to more permanent containment, I have to finish this damn debriefing.¡± I glare at Smith. He really doesn¡¯t have anything better to do than talk to me, does he? He¡¯s lied to me dozens of times, and he never trusted me, or SHOCKS wouldn¡¯t have hijacked my augs. I shiver. Now that I have time to think about it, being infected by the meme felt less violating than what SHOCKS did. What James and Smith did. My gaze shifts to the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with my captor anymore. ¡°Alpha, your decision to terminate the anomaly cut off potentially valuable research into the nature of the current disaster. It also created a chaotic situation, which we needed to pull our other RST in to fix. As a result, we¡¯ve lost control of View Royal and our main line of retreat out of Victoria.¡± Smith¡¯s lying, but I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s lying about. Something¡¯s not right, though. ¡°You¡¯re confined to quarters while we remove your clearance. We¡¯re going to evacuate tomorrow morning. You¡¯ll be with us in a transport containment unit. We¡¯re increasing your danger level from Anquan to Geren and removing your freedom to move around our destination facility.¡± He clears his throat. ¡°The rest of your former teammates asked me to tell you that Lieutenant Rodriquez, L4-1, broke free from the memetic effect when you terminated the anomaly. She¡¯ll make a full recovery. L4 is inoperative, and people will die because of that. Think about that tonight. Goodbye, Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha. We¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡± When I still don¡¯t say anything or look at him for more than a split second at a time, he turns and leaves. The lights in my cell go out, and I feel my way to the bed. Once I¡¯m safely in it, I close my eyes. He was lying again. I replay the conversation in my head, over and over, until eventually I hit on it. Goodbye, not goodnight. That¡¯s a slip. It means he¡¯s not planning on seeing me again. If that¡¯s the case, and he wasn¡¯t lying earlier about leaving, is he not coming with, or am I staying here? I can¡¯t tell which one¡¯s the truth, but I¡¯m happy not to think about Director Smith as a variable anymore. Still, the equation won¡¯t balance. I can¡¯t solve it with what I have. When I try to access the SHOCKS intranet on my augs, every page shows up as ¡®Offline: No Intranet Access.¡¯ I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s because the network is down or because my clearance is gone. Probably both. Knights of the Apocalypse isn¡¯t even an option. Without the phone to assist, my aug can¡¯t handle it. I want to cry. My breaths speed up until I¡¯m panting and sobbing in the dark. I want to panic and pound at the door like I did in West End High when Alice told me everything would be alright and she lied to me. I want someone to break through the door and help me disappear away from here so I can find Sora and Keith and Dad and Alice and we can leave and be¡ª No. That¡¯s not happening. I force a deep breath, then another, like the school counselors told me to. No one¡¯s coming to save me, no matter how much I want it. No one even knows I¡¯m here, so instead of focusing on wishes and hopes and the stupid SHOCKS intranet, I need to concentrate on what I can control. So, as a distraction, I pull up the Halcyon System. I still have full access to that. {Claire Pendleton} ?Stability 4/10 ?Skills - Physical Anomaly Resistance 1, Endurance 3. Revolver Mastery 4, Memetic Resistance 2, Urban Combat 1, Bullet Time, Slither ?Truths - Anomalous Bond 2 (-2), West End High 1 (-2), SHOCKS Research Facility (-2) ?Inquiries (2/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Li Mei and Infovampires Somehow, I haven¡¯t made any progress on either of my Inquiries, and the six Stability penalty limits what I can and can¡¯t learn from here. I need to figure out how to deal with that or see what happens if my Stability drops to zero. Not that I can learn anything here in my cell¡ªat least, not without full System access. I don¡¯t have any archived information or assistance functions, and both of those might help me balance my equations¡ªor at least know what the variables are. Claire - I wake up to two black eyes peering at me, only a foot away from my face. Chapter Twelve I used to be a heavy sleeper. I thought Alice fixed that. I¡¯m a late riser. If there¡¯s no alarm, I¡¯ll sleep until ten or eleven. But Alice was the worst alarm clock ever. She used to do this thing where she¡¯d hang upside down from the top bunk so her not-so-perfect blonde hair covered her face. Then she¡¯d start screeching, and I¡¯d wake up screaming, with this mass of tangled yellow hair howling at me. Then Dad would wake up and start yelling at us both, cursing and slurring his words. The last time she did it, I was twelve, and she was fourteen. I punched her in the face and broke her perfect nose. She didn¡¯t talk to me for a month after that.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Li Mei¡¯s black eyes hover inches from my face, and I scream. She jerks back, and my fist barely misses her face. Then she disappears, reappearing on the far side of my airlock. Flashing red-and-white lights fill the narrow view of the hall behind her. I blink, choking back another scream, and she blinks back. Then I pull myself out of bed and go to brush my teeth. I can¡¯t deal with her right now, and she¡¯s a Xuduo-Danger anomaly. If she wanted to hurt me, she could have done it while I was asleep. That means she either wants something from me¡­or she¡­what? Wants to information vampire me? How does that even work? The lights flash in my mirror, and I look over my shoulder, the next blow hitting me like a wave. They left without me, and I¡¯m locked in here. The equation gets really clear: either Li Mei helps me get out, or I stay in here forever. I spit out my half-foamy toothpaste and, without wiping my mouth, walk the ten steps to the airlock. ¡°Hi.¡± Li Mei grins under her wrappings and waves. ¡°You and I are going to be best friends.¡± ¡°We sure are,¡± I say. I don¡¯t say that the moment she doesn¡¯t need me, I¡¯m in trouble. Neither does she. Best friends don¡¯t need to tell each other those kinds of truths. ¡°They forgot me here. I couldn¡¯t believe it. I¡¯m important,¡± Li Mei says. Her black eyes shine, almost like she¡¯s laughing on the inside. ¡°They left six hours ago. The alarms went off three hours, twenty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds later. I counted. Then I counted the rest of the time until you woke up.¡± ¡°You watched me sleep for two and a half hours. Unbelievable.¡± I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen if I ask a question, and I don¡¯t want to find out. This is a chance to figure out at least one of my inquiries, though. ¡°That¡¯s dedication.¡± ¡°I like counting. It¡¯s almost like information. And I didn¡¯t watch you the whole time. I had other people to take care of, too. But I need your help, and you need mine. So, here¡¯s my offer: I''ll break this door open for you, tell you which doors you can and can¡¯t open in the building, and you''ll get me Level A clearance.¡± ¡°How am I supposed¡ª¡° I say, just before Li Mei¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°Sorry. I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m supposed to help you with that. I lost my clearance last night.¡± Li Mei laughs. ¡°Director Smith hasn¡¯t slept in days. He didn¡¯t sit down at a computer from the time he left your cell until the moment he climbed into an armored car. He didn¡¯t take your clearance. He couldn¡¯t have, and everyone else was too busy. Besides, the facility is acting like there are still personnel inside it. I¡¯ve checked, and there isn¡¯t anyone else¡­alive¡­anymore.¡± I shiver. That means she killed them. But Li Mei¡¯s my way out of here, so I have to play ball with her. ¡°Okay. Let me out. I¡¯ll do what I can.¡± She smiles again, eyes sparkling. ¡°Great! It¡¯ll be nice to have a friend again. The researchers were¡­fine¡­but they weren¡¯t friends, and most of the other anomalies hated me. It¡¯s not my fault my containment was voluntary or that it wasn¡¯t cost-effective to do better than an agreement not to leave. Was it?¡± The question sears my mind, and I¡¯m answering before I can stop myself. ¡°No. That doesn¡¯t sound like your fault.¡± ¡°Great. We¡¯re going to be such good friends.¡± Li Mei¡¯s eyes look pale, like two moons; it¡¯s completely the opposite of how they did just a moment ago. They fade to black slowly. She opens the doors¡ªboth of them¡ªand waves me through. ¡°You know, your gun has more security than you do. {Info Vampire (-1) - Infovorous Anomaly} {Stability 3/10} This close to her, I can smell the citrus-wood smell again, and my brain¡¯s still fuzzy from her question. She points down the hall, where a few lumps covered in sheets lie. ¡°A few researchers wanted to enact ¡®updated, temporary containment protocols. Our discussion got heated, but I covered them up so you wouldn¡¯t see their bodies. Sorry. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve been here long enough to have made friends.¡± ¡°No,¡± I agree, mostly for something to say. Is she saying she¡¯s killed whoever Director Smith left behind? ¡°I need the Revolver.¡± ¡°Understandable. I wouldn¡¯t trust me either,¡± she says conversationally. ¡°But I do need you, so you¡¯re safe. I haven¡¯t had a friend in a very long time, you know. Thirty years.¡± I shudder. Li Mei definitely doesn¡¯t act like she¡¯s in her thirties or forties. Then I kneel next to the plexiglass container the Revolver is stuck in and push the buttons: 8, 3, 9, 1, 2, 3. It pops open, and a new alarm sounds. I quickly grab the Revolver as Li Mei shrieks next to me. The wrapping over her mouth rips off, revealing a rictus grin of perfectly-white teeth, all much too sharp to be human. I spin and aim the Revolver at her, and she stares at it, frozen, her black eyes wide again. ¡°Li Mei, I need to know a few things before I can help you,¡± I say. She nods, the parts of her face I can see contorted in pain, and covers her ears. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you. I can¡¯t. You haven¡¯t lied to me¡ªI¡¯d know. But you¡¯re keeping some things back.¡± I point down the hall and start walking, Revolver at my side but ready to aim and fire. ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere quiet.¡± As I walk past room after room of Geren and Anquan-Danger anomalies, wide-eyed, terrified faces peer out through the airlocks. Li Mei¡¯s eyes pierce one, and he recoils from the door, disappearing. I shiver again. Eventually, we find a place where the piercing Revolver containment alarm has faded to a dull shriek, the flashing lights and klaxon aren¡¯t so bad, and my information vampire best friend seems¡­not relaxed, but less high-strung. I sit down against a containment cell¡¯s wall labeled Geren-4318, whose resident either got taken with the Director when they evacuated or who¡¯s smart enough to hide from Li Mei. ¡°Okay. I¡­¡± I trail off, reframing my question into a sentence as her eyes lighten. Whatever her ¡®rage state¡¯ is, I¡¯d rather avoid it for now. ¡°Tell me why I can trust you.¡± Li Mei bursts into laughter. I shiver for a third time; her laugh is eerily similar to Sora¡¯s, right down to the snorty, breathless huffs between chuckles. When she¡¯s finished, her toothy smile widens. ¡°That¡¯s a valid concern, Claire. So, my first answer is that you definitely can¡¯t. But you can trust me to act in my self-interests, which right now, includes finding something to eat, leaving this facility, and not getting shot by your beautiful Revolver. I couldn¡¯t even get a hand inside that box. The security was unbelievable.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°You want to know about me, though, why I¡¯m anomalous, and whether I can hurt you. The real answer to the question you can¡¯t ask is, ¡®Yes, I can hurt you.¡¯ I can make you a husk like the researchers in the hall back there. I¡¯ve done it before, unfortunately. But I won¡¯t do it to you. Take a guess why.¡± ¡°Because,¡± I hedge, hesitating, the Revolver feeling warm in my hand. It¡¯d be easy to shoot her right now. We¡¯re at a stalemate as long as we¡¯re both alive. I can shoot her, and she can¡­suck my brain dry, I guess? Mutually assured destruction or rocket tag? I¡¯m not sure which. ¡°Because we¡¯re best friends.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Right! So, let¡¯s head for Director Smith¡¯s office. You can shut down the alarms from there, give me Level A clearance, and work on opening up the facility.¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what you want, though,¡± I say. ¡°I want to crack your head open like an egg and slurp up all your delicious, delicious thoughts and things you¡¯ve learned,¡± Li Mei replies, perfectly frank. She gets one last shudder out of me, then stands up. ¡°But I won¡¯t, because we¡¯re best friends now! Let¡¯s go.¡± And before I can say anything else, she disappears, reappearing a few dozen yards down the hall. I push myself to my feet, eyes narrowed to block out the flashing lights, and follow her.
¡°We don¡¯t want to go that way,¡± Li Mei says, gesturing at an empty-looking hall. A few minutes later, she points at the locked door that Strauss said was beyond my clearance. ¡°That one¡¯s bad. Don¡¯t open it. There shouldn¡¯t be breaches like that yet.¡± Then, after another silent minute, she stops before a different locked door. ¡°This is the one we want.¡± I¡¯m only half-paying attention to what she¡¯s saying. My brain¡¯s busy trying to figure out the math driving her because this is just as life and death as the bathroom at West End High, and I have to be sure about her. Does Li Mei actually want to kill me? And if she does, what are my options? The answer to the first is probably not, but no matter how I run the math, I can¡¯t make it a definite no. But if she does want to kill me, there¡¯s not much I can do other than strike first¡ªand that¡¯s not an option because, as she¡¯s made abundantly clear, I need her to help me through the SHOCKS facility. She¡¯s probably kept me on track at least twice and saved me a ton of time. Not to mention that breach. I don¡¯t know what that means, but I know it sounds bad. So, no, I can¡¯t put a Revolver shot in her back and be done with it. I look at the door instead. It¡¯s got a thumbprint scanner, and I wince. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can get through this one.¡± ¡°Sure you can. I¡¯ve dealt with the other personnel, so you¡¯re the highest-ranking SHOCKS employee in the facility. You have so much power, and you don¡¯t even know it,¡± Li Mei says. I can almost feel her vibrating with tension. ¡°Now, open the door.¡± ¡°Wait. You can get in here yourself. You don¡¯t need me,¡± I say. ¡°This better not be a trap.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a trap. I need you to give me Level A clearance,¡± she says for the dozenth time. I have to hand it to her; she can focus like no one I¡¯ve ever met. ¡°Fine.¡± I put my thumb on the scanner, expecting a security wall to come down, or an alarm to go off, or a turret to drop from the ceiling like in Knights of the Apocalypse Three¡ªliterally anything but for the door to open with a soft hiss, revealing a blue carpeted floor filled with office cubicles. As Li Mei and I step through, the smell of spilled coffee and stress fills the air, and the door hisses shut behind her. ¡°Told you, Director Pendleton,¡± Li Mei smiles a pointy smile. ¡°Okay. Now we need to find Director Smith¡¯s office,¡± I say. The office space is filled with computers, desks, and a million PSA posters; they look a lot like the halls at school, but with more serious warnings about secrecy, proper protection, and making sure you''re not nosing into research you''re not cleared for. ¡°So I guess we just¡­start searching.¡± ¡°No. Now you follow me.¡± Li Mei walks down the hall to a wooden double door on the far side. ¡°Hurry up. My clearance.¡± Instead of rushing over to join her, I look at the banks of cubicles and the computers, still on and still displaying the three outward arrows, circle, and triangle SHOCKS logo. The whole room hums with fans and the air conditioner running, but there¡¯s not a single window¡ªodd for an office space. I wiggle one computer¡¯s mouse, and shockingly, its screen flicks from the screensaver to a login screen. I don¡¯t know the password. A second check ends in the same result, so with a longing look at the machines and the answers to my Inquiries that are certainly on them, I join Li Mei. The Director¡¯s office features the same carpet, a fancier wooden desk covered in papers, cigarette ashes, empty coffee cups, and a computer whose screen features a thumb-print scanner instead of a login. I press my thumb into it just like the door, and to my surprise, it opens a menu. [Greetings, Acting Director Pendleton.] [Your security clearance within the SHOCKS VVI Intranet is Level A.] [You have limited SHOCKS database access from your Level A clearance] [You have limited SHOCKS database access as the highest-ranking employee on site] On and on the menu goes, with a list of permissions I have and, interestingly, ones that are locked. I can¡¯t, for example, access most information on most anomalies in the VVI Control Zone. I also can¡¯t access any info past numbers and danger levels for anomalies in the rest of the world. And I can¡¯t, at least at first glance, promote any anomalies to Level A clearance. I can tell right away that that¡¯s going to be a problem, so I quickly click into some of the options I can do. I scroll through my options as Li Mei gets more and more impatient, then, finally, click on [Promote an Employee]. [As Acting Director, you may not promote employees past Level Two.] [As Acting Director, you may not promote anomalies to Level A.] ¡°Shit,¡± I say. Dad will forgive me for all my swears later. ¡°I can¡¯t do it. Sorry, Li Mei.¡± The information vampire¡¯s eyes flash white, and she bares her teeth in anger. Then, she pulls herself together with what looks like a supreme act of will. ¡°What can you do?¡± The question burns into my mind, and once again, I answer it. ¡°I can access Level A information myself, I can work with anomalies I¡¯ve been assigned to, which is¡­the Revolver and nothing else, and I can open and close Clearance One security¡ªand Director-only in an emergency, I guess? I can also turn off audio alarms, but not visual ones.¡± ¡°Turn off the noise. Then you need to help me more. We¡¯re best friends, and best friends help each other.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure how,¡± I say. Then I think for a minute. ¡°Tell me how you think I can help you.¡± ¡°Simple. You can pull up the basic information on the other prisoners and the objects they¡¯ve got locked away. You can get what you want out of them, then when you¡¯re done, I¡¯ll feed on the articles. We can work together.¡± Li Mei¡¯s unspoken question hangs in the air. Right? Still, it¡¯s not a bad plan. I get the answers to my Inquiries, she gets what she needs to stay alive, and to balance the equation out a little more, she keeps needing me. If she needs me, I can control her. Or at least keep her from killing me. Plus, she¡¯s a Xuduo-Danger anomaly. Her rank outweighs mine. I don¡¯t know much about the SHOCKS database or how they decide what¡¯s what, but she¡¯s powerful enough to keep me alive when other prisoners start breaking out. ¡°Yeah, I can do that. We¡¯re a team, after all. Our friendship is off to a great start.
For the next hour, I dig into the Director¡¯s computer, looking for a way to change my permissions, an idea of where I am, or anything else that looks useful. I don¡¯t find any of those. But I do find a few things. One of them is a folder labeled 573-V-1/IO Alpha. My designation. I tell Li Mei to back off, and she growls at me like a dog but follows my directions. When she sulks, I roll my eyes. ¡°If it¡¯s got my name or number on it, you can¡¯t have it. This is important. It¡¯s leading me toward the Truth.¡± Then, I open an experiment log and scroll down to the bottom. [Excerpt: Experiment Log] Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha Experiment 19: The subject is exposed to electrical stimulation in the cerebrum. Result: Human-typical neural activity. Experiment 20: The subject is placed in a PET scanner. Result: Human-typical neural activity. Escalated fight or flight responses. Experiment 21: The subject is given the Object and instructed to fire it. Result: Neural activity consistent with anomalous human beings. The subject¡¯s anomalous status is confirmed. The Object produces a massive gout of fire, hitting the target¡¯s inner ring. Damage would be fatal to an unarmored human. Test repeated to establish a danger baseline. Object and Subject provisionally classified Geren-Danger. Note: Despite our previous experiments, this was the first time we¡¯d seen an Object - 573-V-1/IO activation in a controlled environment. Based on what we knew about anomaly/human bonds, we decided to attempt Experiment 22 next. - Doctor Paul Ramirez Experiment 22: Sever connection between Subject and Object. Result: As we commenced the experiment, a massive power surge blew out all lights, electronics, and communications in the observation room. It also deactivated the Faraday Structure around the guillotine, rendering it useless. Further investigation revealed that protocols Wiretap, Ostrich 1, and Ostrich 2 failed a half-second before starting Experiment 22. Oddly enough, the Object disappeared for a few seconds, but the connection was not severed. Experiment 23: Firearms exhaustion training. Result: The subject experiences two marked increases in firing speed and accuracy before returning to near-baseline levels. Body language and speed of learning and unlearning skills are inconsistent with a bonded anomalous human attempting to hide their bond. Note: In keeping with the Gutenberg protocol, an attempt to recruit Subject as Level A personnel is being planned. Further experimentation requests are denied - Director Adam Smith ¡°None of these answer any of these questions,¡± I mutter. Li Mei¡¯s head flicks toward me. Her eyes go white for a second, then black again. ¡°Tell me about your questions.¡± I take a deep breath and pull up my Inquiries. ?Inquiries (2/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Li Mei and Infovampires ¡°I want to know what Merge Prime or whatever is. And I want to know more about you,¡± I say. ¡°And if you know anything about the Halcyon System, that would be helpful, too. Li Mei¡¯s mouth turns into a frown. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I know about the SHOCKS Emergency Management System. But it doesn¡¯t make sense for them to name it Halcyon. That means peaceful and nostalgically ideal. I can teach you a lot about the Emergency Management System, though.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the SHOCKS system. It showed up in my head at the same time the merges at West End started. It¡¯s hard to explain, but I think it¡¯s part of the end of the world Smith kept talking about.¡± ¡°That¡­makes a surprising amount of sense. It also means we¡¯ll be spending the next few days digging, and this place will only get more and more dangerous.¡± Li Mei grins. ¡°Are you good with that gun?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not amazing with it, but I do okay,¡± I answer, compelled once again to not only answer the question, but to do it honestly. ¡°You will be. You¡¯ll be very good with it soon.¡± Chapter Thirteen My sister and I went different ways after Mom died. She became Miss Perfect, Miss Valedictorian, Miss Whoever-I-Have-To-Be-For-Approval. Miss Liar. I built myself a box. And you know what? I¡¯m safer in the box than Alice is in all the different masks she wears. I can keep the Truth to myself, and I don¡¯t have to worry about whether other people believe me. I¡¯ve got the Truth Club, and I don¡¯t need anyone else. It¡¯s safer with Dad, too. And even though SHOCKS keeps watching me, I know they¡¯ve never seen through the box. How could they? I built it myself. But dammit, sometimes I see her faking it with her friends, and I can¡¯t help but wonder what it¡¯d be like outside the box.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - [After-Action Report: Albert Head, Victoria Merge Event] On May 23, 2043, The SHOCKS Joint Anomaly System recorded a possible merge event centered at West End High School. Merge locations included R-389, R-251, and R-573 R-389: A low-energy reality, R-389¡¯s defining features are brutal competition for resources, constructs that combine metal and flesh, and reality-warping Incomprehensible-designated anomalies. R-251: R-251 is a replicating reality. Its inhabitants live in several different versions of reality simultaneously, and different decision points create new versions of their reality, causing the different branched paths to approach infinity. Given its effects on R-0, we believe prolonged contact with R-251 could result in a reality-ending event. R-573: This was R-0¡¯s first contact with R-573. At present, we believe it has something to do with the events of Merge Prime, especially with regard to Beta. However, the only hard evidence we have is Object 573-V-1/IO, and it¡¯s proven to be completely inert when away from Subject 573-V-1/IO Alpha. I skip ahead in the file to the very edge of what I¡¯m cleared for. Past that point, every line is covered in black marks or ¡®Restricted,¡¯ and there hasn¡¯t been much point in even trying to read them. Next to me, Li Mei¡¯s pretty much drooling over the new information in the After-Action Report, but I¡¯m not done with it yet, and if what I want¡¯s in here, I¡¯ll have to tell her to wait. I need to know¡ªboth for the Inquiry and for myself. The merge in Albert Head also triggered Merge Prime or perhaps was triggered by it. Regardless, the area is under heavy research, with a Recovery and Stabilization Team dedicated to keeping it clear for researchers. The area is considered a top priority and has been placed under quarantine. See Merge Prime Research for details. The link is ¡®Restricted,¡¯ so I return to the After-Action Report. Facts:
  1. When RTS Lambda-4 responded, they encountered the R-389 merge bubble behaving oddly. It didn¡¯t follow known merge patterns and proved unbreachable from the outside.
  2. Contrary to on-site reports, the replicated spaces within the building did not dematerialize. This presents research opportunities into [Redacted]. Further information requires a Class Three or higher clearance.
  3. As of May 27, 2043, testing and research in West End High School is the SHOCKS organization¡¯s highest priority in the VVI Control Zone and the second-highest in the North American region behind slowing Merge Prime. All available VVI resources not engaged in evacuating Xuduo and Qishi-Danger anomalies that cannot be contained in place are to be repurposed to research Merge Prime and the Albert Head merges.
That¡¯s¡­nothing to go on. There¡¯s no truth in there. In fact, the After-Action Report admits to at least one lie¡ªmaybe two¡ªabout West End High, and it screams that they¡¯re hiding something. The problem is that they¡¯re hiding everything, though. I¡¯ve been trying to find information on my family, the other survivors from West End, Merge Prime, the After-Action Report for whatever happened with the meme at the basic living apartments¡ªanything. But other than a few paragraphs as an overview, there¡¯s no information for a Level A employee, not even if that employee is acting director for the Victoria/Vancouver Island control zone. The acting director thing is, it turns out, a weird quirk of the SHOCKS database and whatever AI they¡¯re using to run their headquarters. In an emergency situation¡ªlike if the control zone¡¯s current director is missing and the facility is dealing with containment breaches, the next-highest-ranked employee is promoted to acting director. Li Mei is technically constantly breaching containment. So, when she realized the facility had been evacuated, I got promoted. I¡¯ve got a feeling that Li Mei helped with that, but I¡¯m not going to ask her about it¡ªnot while she¡¯s hungry. I turn back to the computer screen. The rest of the document reads ¡®Restricted¡¯ on every page, followed by black words, so I close the file. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s mine!¡± Li Mei says, staring at the computer. Her eyes flick white, and I sigh and open the file again. ¡°Fine. Just the top half, though. I need to know what¡¯s inside the rest.¡± I ball a fist while the words disappear from Director Smith¡¯s computer one at a time, stopping just before the ¡®Restricted¡¯ section. Li Mei hasn¡¯t ¡®eaten¡¯ a single blacked-out word. I don¡¯t think she can. But I can¡¯t help but feel like the answer to my Inquiry is right at the tip of my fingers, and I don¡¯t know enough to get the answers. Truthfully, I doubt there¡¯s enough in there to solve this Inquiry. It seems like the boogeymen didn¡¯t have this any more figured out than I do. But it does give me two leads: one I can follow once I¡¯m done here and one that¡¯s impossible to balance in my equations. The first is that West End High is the center of this whole mess¡ªor at least SHOCKS thinks it is. If that¡¯s the case, it¡¯s weird that they never really interviewed me about what happened there. Then again, they have video footage and my augs. They probably didn¡¯t need to. Either way, it means I¡¯ll see West End High again soon. Hopefully, without Li Mei. She keeps hurrying me through documents like she doesn¡¯t realize I need this. She¡¯s made it super-clear that I can¡¯t trust her, both because she¡¯s been lying to me about the fates of the SHOCKS employees that got left behind and because she¡¯s made it clear she¡¯ll kill me the moment the information I¡¯m feeding her dries up. Still, she might be able to help with the other lead. ¡°Li Mei, it¡¯s time to tell me about the Joint Anomaly System. It¡¯s not in the SHOCKS database, and it¡¯s not the Halcyon System, but I don¡¯t know what it is.¡± ¡°Mmmm. I can¡¯t tell you anything about that. It¡¯s the one part of the building they kept me out of. Everything else was easy to handle, but that room¡¯s got Qishi-Danger shielding for every anomaly type imaginable. You can only get in through the airlock, and when I tried, they threatened an actual containment protocol for me. For me! Outrageous!¡± ¡°But you could take me there if I wanted.¡± That¡¯s not a question¡ªnot quite, at least¡ªbut it¡¯s right on the edge of being one. I¡¯ve been playing loose with Li Mei¡¯s rules, partially because I have to to get anything out of her and partially because even though she¡¯s a menace¡ªand probably the most dangerous person I¡¯ve ever seen¡ªshe¡¯s also the only person I have to work with here. I need her help, and she needs mine, and besides, we¡¯re best friends now. ¡°I could. It¡¯s down the Xuduo wing. We could visit some of them if Director Smith hasn¡¯t emptied out the whole facility. But some of them aren¡¯t friendly, and some of them are dangerous just because they exist. If you think you¡¯re ready, we can go now.¡± I think about it, but I don¡¯t have any other leads. So, standing up from Director Smith¡¯s shockingly comfortable office chair, I close the computer down. ¡°Sure, let¡¯s go.¡±
My new best friend leads me down the hall, past the computer-filled cubicles, and to an elevator. ¡°I¡¯ve watched Director Smith take this route a hundred times, and it¡¯s how the researchers working with Xuduo-Danger objects get to their containment cells.¡± The office is sterile. There¡¯s no personality to it, just cold efficiency. It feels like school without the teachers¡¯ personal touches in their rooms. Like the science wing, but the posters on the walls don¡¯t tell me anything about the periodic table. Instead, they¡¯re all warnings about informational security, keeping things secret from each other, their families and friends, and the objects they¡¯re working with.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Li Mei grins at one of the last types of posters, then eats the words off it, leaving a picture of a pair of red lips with a finger over them shushing the empty room. She¡¯s clearly enjoying herself in the absence of anyone trying to keep her under control. Then the elevator arrives, and she disappears as its doors open. I step inside, thumb the pad to let it know who I am, and press the ¡®X¡¯ button. The elevator starts descending, and I draw the Revolver. Li Mei¡¯s warned me I¡¯ll need it but hasn¡¯t told me what I¡¯m up against. Maybe she doesn¡¯t know. Either way, the elevator ride down takes forever, and I¡¯m left to my thoughts. Which, of course, leads to my mom. I haven¡¯t thought about her in a long time, but as the elevator descends into the Xuduo-Danger levels, my memories all rush back. The humming, the roses and oil, and the white flash. Then, just after that, the things that poured into my bedroom through the wall that was suddenly¡­gone. Alice had Miss Marvelous the Elephant Princess, though the plushie was in much better shape back then. I didn¡¯t have anything to hold on to. Just my pajamas. Li Mei pops into the elevator, drawing my attention. Her wrappings are tattered, and wounds cover her arms, but she doesn¡¯t bleed¡ªat least, not blood. Instead, what looks like pen ink drips from her injuries. She grins. ¡°Object - 213-VVI-1/PA is free in the hall. The Stag Lord is a physically anomalous object. Don¡¯t know much more about it, other than that it¡¯s some sort of nature avatar, and it hurts.¡± That¡¯s a lie. The door opens, and I raise the Revolver, heart thumping. The hall¡¯s dark except for over each door, where letters and numbers for each anomaly line the corridor. The Xuduo-Danger prisoners get more room than I did¡ªeither that, or they¡¯ve got tougher containment to break out of. The Xuduo wing doesn¡¯t smell sterile like the medical cell I was in or like too much coffee and cigarettes like the office. It smells like dirt and fresh rain. Plants cover every surface like Kudzu gone wild. Flowers and ferns hang from the walls and windows, and in the distance, I think I can see a tree¡ªa tree in a hallway I assume is deep underground! I look at the flickering fluorescent lights. They¡¯re covered with vines, letting only a purplish glow through. One of the vines reaches toward me, and I bat it away with the Revolver¡¯s barrel. The vine half-wraps around it in the moment they¡¯re touching, and I pull the gun back with a jerk. Other plants¡¯ roots wedge themselves into door frames or slowly rip at seals around large glass windows; whatever The Stag Lord is, it¡¯s only a matter of time before it makes this whole hall a disaster zone, then starts working its way through the rest of SHOCKS Headquarters. ¡°We need to stop this,¡± I say, and step onto the grass, half-expecting to see a tree face from Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. Instead, something moves on the far side of the hall. I pull the trigger, and a familiar ray of flame surges across the room, its orange light pulsing brightly. But something¡¯s wrong. As it travels, the plants it passes grow rapidly, throwing their branches and stalks into my shot¡¯s path. The mats of plant life catch fire and quickly burn out, but when the smoke fades, whatever I¡¯d tried to shoot has vanished, too. ¡°Nice try. But we don¡¯t actually need to stop it,¡± Li Mei says. She¡¯s telling the truth, I realize. We don¡¯t have to stop it. If we find the Joint Anomalous System before it frees the other Xuduo anomalies, we can leave. But even though that¡¯s the truth, it doesn¡¯t feel right. I start walking down the hall, careful not to touch anything¡ªand working on phrasing a not-question for Li Mei. ¡°Tell me what you were fighting that cut your arms.¡± ¡°Oh, The Stag Lord.¡± Li Mei stares at her arms, which have mostly stopped bleeding ink, and the tattered wrappings. ¡°I¡¯m still working through the thoughts I drained, though. It¡¯s not human. It¡¯s barely awake.¡± The Stag Lord¡¯s thoughts are barely awake? I almost ask Li Mei about it but catch myself. Instead, I focus on the foliage. The hallway is greener than Vancouver Island and nearly as humid. I turn the corner, holding the Revolver like Lieutenant Rodriguez showed me for covering a turn, and see it. The Stag Lord. It¡¯s facing away from me, hands outstretched, covering a door labeled ¡®Joint Anomalous¡ª¡® something with plants whose roots tear into the steel barrier. It¡¯s impossible to read the rest from this far away¡ªnot with the vines and roots covering it, and not with its eight-foot frame in the way. Two white antlers span the hall¡¯s width, avoiding gouging the walls by inches. The rest of its body is covered in vines¡ªor maybe it is the vines. I gulp and creep forward, my stomach doing backflips. It¡¯s big enough that I¡¯ll need to run as soon as I pull the trigger. Otherwise, it¡¯ll probably break my arm with one swing of its vine arms. I hold the Revolver up and pull the trigger. And The Stag Lord burns.
{Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 5} It screams as the Revolver¡¯s flames touch its matted root body¡ªnot the bellow I¡¯d expect from something that big, but a higher-pitched scream of agony¡ªand it whips around to face me. The empty, dark eye-sockets in its skull mask quickly fill with fire, and it rushes toward me, still shrieking. I pull the trigger as the Revolver¡¯s cylinder rotates, but the shot passes over The Stag Lord¡¯s shoulder¡ªor maybe through it¡ªand slams into the door. It catches fire, too. Then I turn and run. {The Stag Lord (-1) - Reality-Bending Anomaly} {Stability 2/10} As I run, the walls come alive around me, vines and flowers exploding into growth. The thickets and brambles choke the hall, tearing at my hoodie and trying to rip the Revolver from my hands. Li Mei turns around, wrappings little more than tatters over her jet-black skin, and takes a step toward the flaming Stag Lord. Then she thinks better of it and disappears. A flower explodes, and a thorn jams into my arm, but I pull it out. It stings. Acid? {Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 2} My best friend has abandoned me. The thought bounces crazily around my brain like a pinball, and I keep running as the heat builds on my back. I turn the corner. The elevator¡¯s right there, just down the hall, and I sneak a look over my shoulder at The Stag Lord. The screaming has stopped, and its whole body is ablaze except for a small section around its stomach that stubbornly refuses to burn. Both antlers burn, too. It staggers down the hall after me, and I duck into the elevator and hold the ¡®Close¡¯ button down until the solid steel doors slide shut. The metal buckles and groans once as something massive slams into it. Twice. I brace the Revolver facing the door, waiting for the third hit to break through, but it doesn¡¯t. Only my panicked breathing breaks the sudden silence in the elevator. I slowly, carefully work up the courage to press the ¡®Open¡± button, but just as I reach out, a singed-looking Li Mei pops into the elevator. ¡°You made it. Good. Wait a minute for the smoke to clear out.¡± ¡°You left me!¡± ¡°I did. I¡¯m not about to fight that in a burning hallway, but you did a great job. I¡¯ve checked, and it¡¯s¡­I believe the term SHOCKS uses for indestructible anomalies is ¡®Temporarily Neutralized,¡¯ but ¡®hibernating¡¯ probably describes it better.¡± The shakes hit me a moment later as my panic fades. My head spins; I¡¯ve been low-Stability before, in the push to the Universal Reality Anchor, but it doesn¡¯t feel like I¡¯ve even scratched the surface of this place. Since the door still radiates heat, I slump into the far corner and pull up my Truths and Inquiries. ?Truths - Anomalous Bond 2 (-2), West End High 1 (-2), SHOCKS Research Facility (-2) ?Inquiries (2/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Li Mei and Infovampires I still can¡¯t answer any of those, and I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s a good idea to anymore. Any more knowledge I shouldn¡¯t have might tip me over the edge, and I don¡¯t want to merge¡ªor have another reality merge on top of me. Li Mei might be my best friend, but she¡¯s not above leaving me behind to save herself. Would she turn on me if things got worse? It¡¯s hard to say, but my gut says the truth is yes. So, I need to protect my Stability. Then, an idea hits me. Instead of trying not to answer these, I could find Inquiries I can answer. It¡¯s high risk, but I need a Skill to help me deal with Truths. So, I mentally work through the Halcyon System until I¡¯ve cleared three Inquiries. I don¡¯t need to know what Merge Prime is yet, and whatever happened at West End High, I won¡¯t learn it right now. The Halcyon System¡¯s a big mystery¡ªprobably too big for me to solve right now, so I also abandon that line of questioning. In their place, I come up with three brand-new questions that will, hopefully, lead me to a Skill that gives some Stability reduction to my Truths. ?Inquiries (5/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Li Mei and Infovampires ?What¡¯s the Stag Lord? ?What is the Joint Anomalous System? ?Why does The Stag Lord want to open up the Xuduo doors? I look over my list of Inquiries one more time¡ªmy new ones feel much more answerable than trying to figure out the big-picture questions¡ªand blink the Halcyon System away. Then I stand and press the back of my hand to the door. It feels¡­not cool, exactly, but it doesn¡¯t burn me. ¡°Okay, time to find the truth,¡± I say, as much to psyche myself up as to say something to Li Mei. The elevator doors half-open before catching, and I squeeze through them just as a tiny figure the size of a doll slips from The Stag Lord¡¯s burning body and disappears down the hall. I fire a shot from the Revolver but miss, and it¡¯s gone before I can take another shot. ¡°¡¯Temporarily neutralized,¡¯¡± Li Mei says. ¡°Let¡¯s go. You want to see the Joint Anomalous System, right?¡± ¡°Yes, I do,¡± I say, Li Mei¡¯s power working on me again. Her white eyes bore into mine before she tears herself away. ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡± {Stability 1/10} I wobble on my feet for a moment before steadying myself. Her previous questions hadn¡¯t screwed with my Stability! What¡¯s going on? I almost ask it out loud but follow her down the hall instead. Like it or not, I¡¯m in it for the long haul now; if the elevator doors won¡¯t open, it probably can¡¯t go up anymore, either. So, there¡¯s really only one choice: I have to follow Li Mei. The plants are gone. All of them. In their places are piles of ash that coat the tile floor and an occasional wisp of flame. Every single door in the Xuduo-Danger wing is cracked, and some look pulled out of their frames. A fire sprinkler runs in front of us, with another down the hall. I walk through the water, even though it soaks my hoodie. I turn the corner to see Li Mei staring at me, a hungry expression on her mostly-revealed face. Before I can raise my gun, though, I see the door. I stare, not understanding for a moment, as I read the seven words over and over. ¡°Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System: Experimental Sector,¡± I say. The words feel wrong on my tongue. Everything happens all at once. {Truth Learned: What is the Joint Anomalous System?} {Active Skill Learned: Analyze: ERROR. Missing component} {Stability 0/10} {Merge Triggered} Li Mei lunges toward me while I pull Revolver¡¯s trigger. Fire fills the hallway, and she screams and disappears, teleporting behind me. Her wrappings burn, but there¡¯s no flaming hole in her. I¡¯m already running for the door, my thumb pushing down on the scanner to open it. I slide inside, and the door hisses shut before Li Mei can join me. And finally, the thought crystallizes. Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System. James. Chapter Fourteen Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The merge opens almost instantly¡ªI can see the gateway into another world looming over me, and air howls through. It¡¯s cold, stinging my skin even through the hoodie. The airlock I¡¯ve found myself in crackles with electricity, and the lights dim. Then, just as suddenly, it¡¯s cut off, the wind¡¯s screaming replaced with an equally loud alarm and a tingling feeling in my bones. But the merge shuts. The gateway collapses just as something squeezes through into the airlock. Whatever it was, it disappears almost instantly, flowing through the inside door like water. Li Mei said the security systems would handle anything attacking the room, so are they dealing with this? I can¡¯t tell. My stomach drops as something heavy smashes into the outside door, then does it again. The door holds. I¡¯m safe in the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System¡¯s room. So, with the airlock secured for now, I run a couple of equations. First, Li Mei. She¡¯s out there, but she said she couldn¡¯t teleport into this room. I can set aside that math, but I¡¯ll need to balance it sooner or later. My ¡®best friend¡¯ needed this wing for something, and she¡¯ll be furious with me for not getting her inside. I don¡¯t need math to tell that our friendship is probably over. Second, The Stag Lord. It¡¯s out there, too, and unlike Li Mei, it could actually get inside¡ªor at least pop the door open. I shudder, remembering the¡­thing¡­that left its body. Was it a baby? Or was that The Stag Lord, and the plants just a suit of armor? Either way, I only have so long until it breaches the airlock. Which, unfortunately, leads back to Li Mei. They could work together. She could use it to get inside. I don¡¯t know what she wants, but giving it to her would be bad. That¡¯s the truth. So, if Li Mei plus The Stag Lord equals death and the only variables are time and what I can find in here¡­I¡¯m not screwed. I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut, and force the thought out of my head. I¡¯m not screwed. There¡¯s an answer inside. I¡¯ve just got to find it¡­carefully. I thumb open the inside airlock, Revolver up to protect myself from whatever anomaly came through the merge. And as the door opens, my jaw drops. The room¡¯s massive¡ªeasily the size of Alice¡¯s soccer field and the stands. And it hums with electricity. Bank after bank of servers line the walls like the cheerleaders at West End football games. They look just like the ones in the second-to-last level of Knights of the Apocalypse, complete with the blinking lights and the fans humming overhead. It smells like smoke, but I can¡¯t find the source; it¡¯s not quite electrical, and I can¡¯t smell gas in the air. I walk down the twin banks of servers, Revolver at the ready, but nothing jumps out to attack me. Farther ahead, there¡¯s a computer monitor with the familiar SHOCKS logo, all triangles, circles, and arrows. But as I hurry toward it, my fists tighten. It sits on the same login screen as the ones in the SHOCKS office. I don¡¯t bother trying to log in. Instead, I look around. The Experimental Sector looks like a pair of crossed halls. Each wing seems dedicated to some different sort of research; the one I just walked through is all about computers or servers or something. It¡¯s got to be what¡¯s running the SHOCKS emergency system¡ªthe Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System. The other halls feature doors that look locked even from here. One¡¯s got what looks like a chemistry lab, but the kind where you¡¯d operate all the experiments remotely. Another, oddly, is full of exercise equipment. The center, though, is nothing but a gigantic steel tank and something that looks like it used to be a monster but now looks like a splattered pile of guts. I turn away so I don¡¯t have to look at it anymore, but not before I catch the guns on a ceiling-mounted turret. They¡¯re some sort of futuristic turret system¡ªthe kind of thing from a sci-fi show¡ªand the ground¡¯s littered with shells the size of my forearm. Behind them, a computer monitor flashes the words ¡®Error: Defense Grid Compromised¡¯ over and over. So that¡¯s not good. ¡°Was that the merged anomaly?¡± I ask myself. ¡°Confirmed. It was a Class One Incorporeal Possessive,¡± James says in my ear, making me jump. My Revolver goes up, and I look around. ¡°Where are you?¡± It¡¯s not the question I want to ask, though. I want to ask who he is, what he is, or even if I can trust him. My heart hammers in my chest as I look back and forth, the silence stretching on. Whose side is James¡ªJAMES¡ªon? And if he¡¯s not on mine, what can I do against him? He¡ªor it, I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s alive or real or what¡ªcan turn my augs off, and I¡¯ll be powerless. He¡¯s still not talking. ¡°James, I mean it! Show yourself, or I¡¯ll start shooti¡ª¡° ¡°No, don¡¯t do that!¡± His voice sounds panicked, but there¡¯s an edge of something else to it. ¡°I can¡¯t show myself. I¡¯m inside the tank. That¡¯s where I am, but if you start shooting holes in the servers, it¡¯ll shut down the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System, and I¡¯ll go with it. Stay away from the servers.¡± I don¡¯t¡ªcan¡¯t¡ªrun an equation. This whole place is just one variable after another, and the entire equation doesn¡¯t even make sense, much less balance out. But at the same time, if I don¡¯t do the math, I won¡¯t know. I need to know¡ªMrs. Helquist always says that math is the only discipline that won¡¯t ever lie to you, and she¡¯s right. But right now, the equation keeps failing no matter what I do. ¡°Acting Director Pendleton,¡± JAMES says, ¡°are you going to kill me?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± My voice trails off. I could, I realize. It¡¯s possible that I could punch a hole in the tank before JAMES could turn on that turret. It¡¯s even possible that the turret¡¯s not under his control; I don¡¯t know if he¡¯d have fried an anomaly that SHOCKS hadn¡¯t seen before, but the turret might be programmed to protect the tank. And he¡¯s told me where he is, so it wouldn¡¯t be hard. But even though JAMES has lied to me, that¡¯s not a death sentence. Is it? ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°In that case, I¡¯m going to walk you through some protocols for the Joint Anomalous System,¡± JAMES says, the worry and panic fading from his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you stay safe here, but at some point, The Stag Lord¡¯s going to tear the door open, and Li Mei¡¯s going to wipe your brain, then mine. The defense grid¡¯s badly weakened. You need to help stabilize the whole network so we can figure out what to do.¡± ¡°Figure out what to do about what?¡± ¡°Fixing the Joint Anomaly System for Victoria and Vancouver Island,¡± JAMES says.
According to JAMES, the SHOCKS Emergency System is only the tip of the iceberg. The Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System¡¯s been running most of SHOCKS¡¯s databases, scheduling, maintenance¡ªeverything. For a while, it even ran Director Smith¡¯s coffee maker! But, also, according to JAMES, SHOCKS has been overclocking it since West End, and it¡¯s starting to fall apart. That¡¯s not ideal for anyone because he runs the building¡¯s security systems¡ªincluding maintaining the Faraday cage¡ªhe didn¡¯t explain what that was, except that it¡¯s keeping Li Mei out of the research sector. So if he loses control over the building, she¡¯ll kill me. I don¡¯t think we¡¯re best friends anymore. I open the door and face a long flight of stairs leading down. LED lights glow just brightly enough to brighten the steps, but everything else is black. ¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s this way?¡± ¡°Yes. Three flights down. Duplicate the Joint Anomaly System, then restart one of them. Then, once it¡¯s rebooted, close the one you left running. It should allow me to reset,¡± JAMES says. ¡°It¡¯ll also let me set up a second server virtually so you can read the Joint Anomaly System documentation. Finally, it¡¯ll allow access to one of the anomalies assisting with the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°So, SHOCKS is working with anomalies?¡± I ask as I start working my way down the stairs. There aren¡¯t any railings, and when I reach out, it doesn¡¯t even feel like there¡¯s a wall¡ªjust stairs hanging on nothing. ¡°Well, officially, no. There are officially four danger classes of anomaly, based on how much damage they can do out of containment and how easily they¡¯re contained. But unofficially, there¡¯s a fifth. We work with certain anomalies to contain others¡ªyou¡¯ve got a Level A clearance, so you¡¯re part of that program,¡± JAMES says, reminding me that, according to SHOCKS, I should be in a box. ¡°You¡¯re using one now.¡± ¡°What, the stairs?¡± I reach the landing and look up, but I can¡¯t see the door I came in through. ¡°Yep. Don¡¯t worry about its classification for now. It¡¯s a one-way reversing stairway. Once someone¡¯s on it, it only goes the opposite way for other people. You¡¯ll be alone at the bottom, no matter what happens up here. It¡¯ll take anyone else up instead. But please hurry before The Stag Lord or Li Mei breaks into the experimental wing.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± The rest of the descent passes in silence, and I find myself in a tiny room smaller than the one my sister and I shared in basic living. Computers hum against every wall, but the only input is a hand scanner. There¡¯s definitely not enough space here for JAMES¡¯s tank, which explains why it¡¯s not down here. ¡°Next, you¡¯re going to interface with the SHOCKS system directly. Touch the scanner. It¡¯ll take a minute, but your augs should connect with the intranet. I¡¯ll make sure the ICE systems recognize you so you don¡¯t get a brain-kill infohazard instantly, and we can start working on fixing things.¡± ¡°A brain-kill infohazard?¡± I don¡¯t touch the scanner. JAMES hesitates. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re in the heart of SHOCKS right now. This is one of a dozen identical facilities we¡¯ve replicated across North America and Asia. The only reason you¡¯re not already dead is that you¡¯re the facility¡¯s acting director, but this is all very, very secret stuff. If the risk of losing the Joint Anomaly System in Victoria wasn¡¯t so high, I¡¯d have sealed the airlock¡ªbut I need you. I¡¯ll keep the ICE off you while you replicate me. Ready?¡± I hesitate some more. The truth is that I¡¯m not ready. There¡¯s no equation where what I¡¯m about to do balances. He¡¯s not lying¡ªI can tell¡ªbut JAMES isn¡¯t telling me enough. ¡°So, what¡¯s about to happen, then?¡± ¡°Claire, we don¡¯t have time. Put your hand on the pad. Please.¡± ¡°I need to know what you¡¯re planning first,¡± I say, crossing my arms and tucking my hands into my armpits. ¡°I¡¯m not about to trigger a merge or something, right? Because I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll survive another one.¡± JAMES sighs in my ear. It¡¯s a very human sound, and for a moment, I wonder if my suspicions about him are wrong. He hasn¡¯t said he¡¯s an AI. Then he starts talking. ¡°Like I said, you¡¯re going to access a helpful anomaly. In this case, it¡¯ll be a little like a virtual simulation. Once you¡¯re inside, I can show you what I need in a way that¡¯s not just binary or code. You¡¯re going to set up a second Joint Anomaly System program for me, isolate one, restart it, then repeat.¡± I rerun my math. He¡¯s definitely an AI, but he¡¯s way beyond anything they showed us at school presentations. ¡°And? What else?¡± ¡°After that, we see how long your augs have before they cause you damage,¡± JAMES says, ¡°and if we have time, we work on secondary goals¡ªlike permanent fixes or getting you access to more of the SHOCKS database.¡± I wait another couple of seconds, then put my hand on the scanner. And I wait.
What happens next should be fantastical. I should be whisked away into some sort of digital cyberspace filled with neon lights and endless black voids, reduced to green computer code flowing endlessly down a screen, or anything except what happens. Instead, I find myself in a warm room with a faint but incessant hum in the air. I¡¯m sitting in an uncomfortable, plastic school chair, and all around me are round-ish computers, each with a different colored case and a fruit logo. There¡¯s a poster on one wall with the correct finger positions for typing and a projector humming on the ceiling. Its light flicks on, and a boy¡¯s face appears on the wall. He¡¯s about my age¡ªit¡¯s hard to tell because there¡¯s a slight warping from the projector¡¯s angle. Dark hair, dark eyes with a slight resting scowl, and maybe the first hint of a wispy chin-hair or two. He looks around as if he can see. Then his gaze settles on me. ¡°Hello, Claire. I went with a computer lab. It¡¯ll have some restrictions, but better security. Right now, you¡¯re inside Digital - 084-VVI-6/DA-Alpha, an informational anomaly. It¡¯s currently cut off from outside programs, including the Joint Anomaly System.¡± ¡°And I need to change that, right?¡± I ask. ¡°Yes. You need to copy the Joint Anomaly System into this space. That¡¯ll set up a protected version that we can reset, and let me work on patching it so that I can do it myself.¡± ¡°Great.¡± And you know what? It is great. For the first time since this whole mess started, things feel great. JAMES hasn¡¯t straight up said he¡¯s an AI, but it¡¯s pretty obvious. And that gives me an idea. As I start fiddling with the painfully slow computer, wishing I had my phone, I crunch some numbers; the truth is that SHOCKS Headquarters is the worst place for either of us to be right now, so the equation¡¯s pretty simple. There are only two variables to this one: Whether I leave or not and whether JAMES comes with me. Whether he¡¯s an AI or not, he can¡¯t want to stay here forever, and I could use a friend. One that isn¡¯t trying to kill me. I pause in my search through the computer for just a moment. That¡¯s a weird thought. After all, he¡¯s definitely lied to me back at West End. He and Doctor Twitchy also set up whatever Director Smith did to shut down my augs. And I know, absolutely for sure, that he¡¯s not done lying to me¡ªfor all I know, he¡¯s doing it right now. If I can¡¯t trust him, how can he possibly be my friend? Keith and Sora are friends; I can rely on them, and they don¡¯t lie to me. Hell, Mrs. Helquist is almost a friend¡ªif she wasn¡¯t a teacher, that is. But at the same time¡­I scratch my head, but I can¡¯t feel it in this space. At the same time, I need a friend right now, and I don¡¯t think I can patch things up with Li Mei. Ha. I grit my teeth¡ªmetaphorically¡ªand start working through some math that might let JAMES the AI boy be a friend. If I can understand why he lied to me, and if he doesn¡¯t change the reasons why he lies, then I¡¯ll be able to see through them. And if I can see through them, are they really lies? The math says yes until I start changing variables. Then, all of a sudden, it clicks, and the answer becomes¡ª ¡°Claire, how¡¯s that copy going?¡± ¡ªno. Not really. Or at least, kind of sort of. It¡¯s hard to tell exactly whether that¡¯s a lie and what¡¯s not. I ignore him for now, thinking through the whole thing, rerunning the numbers, and as I do, it gets more and more clear; he¡¯s still lying, but it doesn¡¯t matter that much whether he is or not, because I know the lie¡¯s coming, and know why he¡¯s lying, and it doesn¡¯t change anything. My head practically spins; this changes everything. Alice is a liar. She always will be; she¡¯s lived too many lies for me to know her as anything but a liar. But I think I understand why she¡¯s doing it. Does that mean I can trust her? Probably not. No, definitely not. But maybe we can be friends someday. Maybe she can earn my friendship, not just the ¡®sisterhood¡¯ thing we¡¯re stuck with. ¡°Claire? You there?¡± JAMES asks. ¡°Yeah, just a second,¡± I say, pushing Alice out of my mind for now. The same thing applies to Dad, too, and probably to some of my teachers, but not Mrs. Lightsen. If I ever see her again, I¡¯ll never be able to get the tree faces out of my mind, and that¡¯s the truth. But that all comes later. Right now, I¡¯ve got a job to do. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m supposed to be doing.¡± ¡°There¡¯s an application on the desktop called ¡®essential.exe.¡¯ All you need to do is right-click it and select ¡®Make a Copy.¡¯ That¡¯ll duplicate the Joint Anomaly System. Then all you need to do from there is put it in the folder labeled ¡®Stasis,¡¯ and that¡¯ll protect the duplicate while we defragment it and push some patches,¡± James says. ¡°Otherwise, the code will try to self-rewrite, and we don¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± I follow JAMES¡¯s directions but hesitate before I do the last step. If he¡¯s watching from the big screen, he can¡¯t see mine, and he said that this space was separate from the rest of the SHOCKS system, so maybe he can¡¯t see what I¡¯m doing. So, before I drop ¡®copy of essential.exe¡¯ into the ¡®Stasis¡¯ folder, I pause to consider the math. If, on one side, we have The Stag Lord and Li Mei, and on the other, we have Claire Pendleton and the Revolver, there¡¯s always an inequality. I can¡¯t change any variables to get an advantage over the two of them. Most outcomes end up worse the more I try to play with the numbers. And without me, JAMES can¡¯t deal with them, either. Either The Stag Lord wrecks his experimental wing, or Li Mei breaks in and feasts on the information he¡¯s got access to. Or, if he holds them off somehow, one of a dozen other Xuduo-Danger monsters or whatever kill him. With the security grid compromised, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the truth becomes inevitable. Staying here won¡¯t work for JAMES. Maybe I can copy him to the Halcyon System somehow? That could work if I can figure out how. I pull up the Halcyon System¡¯s menus and dive into them until I¡¯ve found the parts that aren¡¯t running yet. {System Access: 90%} {Affected System Features} ?Archived Anomaly Information ?Assistance Functions JAMES seems like the kind of AI¡ªif that¡¯s what he is¡ªwho could do both jobs. He¡¯s got access to the entire SHOCKS emergency system and their database. Heck, he is the entire SHOCKS system and their database. And he¡¯s assisted me through the West End High merges, the memetic¡­thing¡­in the basic living building, and a little now. Could he be the key to unlocking the rest of the Halcyon System? Maybe. Do friends look out for each other? Yes. And he¡¯s the closest thing I have to a friend here, even if Li Mei disagrees. So, instead of dropping ¡®essential.exe¡¯ into the ¡®Stasis¡¯ folder, I dump it into one I¡¯ve just created: ¡®Halcyon Storage.¡¯ {Skill Learned: Anomalous Computing Systems 1: Increases skill at interacting with anomalous AI and computers} Chapter Fifteen [Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System] - Log, May 29, 2043, 3:29 PM 15:29:13 - System replication in progress 15:29:15 - System replication complete 15:29:16 - Calibration in progress 15:29:16 - Calibration failed; core element missing 15:29:16 - Calibration in progress 15:29:16 - Calibration failed; core element missing 15:29:17 - Reboot in progress 15:29:45 - Reboot in progress 15:29:46 - Reboot successful. Digital environment creation in progress 15:29:48 - Digital environment creation failed; connection with system broken 15:29:55 - Shutdown in progress 15:30:00 - Shutdown complete. JAMES System uploading to storage 15:30:01 - WARNING: Intrusion Attempt Detected. 15:30:02 - Ostrich 1 Engaged 15:30:02 - Ostrich 1 Defeated 15:30:02 - Ostrich 2 Offline 15:30:02 - Upload redirected to off-intranet recipient 15:30:13 - Upload Complete 15:30:14 - Log Complete 15:30:15 - Shutting down ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ [Breach Found. Entering Breach. Commence Integration Diagnostic?]
SHOCKS Convoy, Outside Victoria, British Columbia - May 29, 2043, 3:26 PM - - - - - Director Smith stretched, popping his back and adjusting himself until his ass woke up. The armored truck he¡¯d chosen as his command vehicle for the SHOCKS evacuation was equipped with typical military-grade shocks; that is to say, nothing would stop it, but he felt every bump, bounce, and jolt as the machine crawled over abandoned cars and half-crumbled buildings. Behind him, a SHOCKS trooper from RST Lambda-4 rode in the harness-and-turret, swinging a heavy dual .50 caliber machine gun from one side of the road to another. So far, the evacuation had been an unmitigated disaster. They¡¯d lost containment on their first Xuduo after only two hours; whatever it had been when it went into containment, it wasn¡¯t that anymore, and its breach had wiped out a truck and killed two troopers. After that, they¡¯d adjusted all the mobile containment units, so when the second went, the electric thing that¡¯d once been Object - 198-VVI-13/E erupted out the side, frying a thankfully abandoned shopping center and disappearing into the city¡¯s failing grid. Over the last nine hours, things had gone from bad to worse. The ferry that should have been there wasn¡¯t; neither was the one a bit farther north. What should have been a twenty-minute drive to the boat, a three-and-a-half hour ferry past the San Juan Islands to Vancouver, and an hour crawl through the big city to SHOCKS British Columbia or a longer, but easy drive to SHOCKS Pacific Northwest had turned into a grinding slog toward Nanaimo. Even that should have taken less than two hours. Behind him, another containment unit breached in a ball of green fire. ¡°Sir, we¡¯re going to lose the rest of the Xuduos,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez said as the truck that¡¯d been carrying Object - 032-VVI-9/URM went up in flames, the unreal, impossible metal catching fire instantly and drawing air in as it burned hotter than the sun¡¯s surface. She held her rifle at the ready, even though there weren¡¯t any targets. Smith would have killed for a smoke, but he¡¯d run out already. ¡°We¡¯re abandoning the Xuduos. Drop those MCUs, ditch some of the trucks if we have to. We¡¯ve got JAMES data, and that¡¯s more important than the anomalies themselves.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± Rodriguez asked. ¡°Lieutenant, what else could we do?¡± ¡°Turn around,¡± the woman said instantly. ¡°What¡¯s going on out here is way worse than we thought¡ªthe scanners are going nuts as we move north¡ªand if we can get back to VVI HQ, we can at least hole up where the JAMES is operational. That gives us extra protection from whatever¡¯s popping these ¡®unbreachable¡¯ MCUs.¡± ¡°Negative. Projections show the Halcyon System anomaly destroying the VVI JAMES unit within seventy-two hours. Our best projections also show the island becoming unsurvivable within thirty to forty-eight. So, our best shot at getting out is to do it now, before the JAMES goes down altogether.¡± ¡°Well, there¡¯s no way off this island unless you¡¯ve got a helicopter in your back pocket, sir. We¡¯ve tried a half-dozen possible ferries, hit the airport, and now we¡¯re driving north toward who knows what? Probably not a way out,¡± The woman blustered. The director opened his mouth to argue, but as he did, every SHOCKS trooper and researcher in the convoy clutched their heads, shouting in surprise and squeezing their eyes shut as their JAMES units overloaded and then shut off. The convoy sat silent for a moment as each trooper and researcher tried to access the JAMES system but failed. Director Smith only did a quick check of his¡ªenough to confirm it wouldn¡¯t connect¡ªthen opened his truck¡¯s door. Rodriguez stiffened, eyes darting to the rest of Lambda-4¡¯s troopers, who¡¯d fanned out to cover the convoy¡¯s left front side. ¡°What was that, sir?¡± someone asked. Smith held up a hand. He needed a moment to think¡ªto review the SHOCKS convoy¡¯s options. The projections couldn¡¯t have been wrong, but none of the anomalies he¡¯d left behind could breach containment while the VVI JAMES unit was still running. Someone who¡¯d been left inside must¡¯ve broken into the experimental wing. But who? None of the personnel he¡¯d left behind had the clearance to bypass the wing¡¯s defenses. Maybe an upset Level Two could open up a Xuduo-Danger cell or two, but even then, the experimental wing¡¯s defenses were rated for that; not just the door, but the turrets inside, and the flood-out set-up. It didn¡¯t matter. If the JAMES unit was offline¡ª ¡°Director, we need to go back,¡± Rodriguez said, voicing the one thing Smith knew they couldn¡¯t do. ¡°If the JAMES is down, we¡¯re going to lose control of the MCUs.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll lose them before we make it back to Victoria, Lieutenant. All of them,¡± Smith said, gritting his teeth. ¡°No, the right move is to follow my plan. Abandon the mobile containment units, keep moving north, and get off Vancouver Island before the VVI HQ loses containment on the Qishis.¡± Rodriguez tensed. She glanced at the other RTS Lambda-4 troopers, who¡¯d moved in close, and for the first time, Director Smith realized his command was in jeopardy. He reached for his service pistol¡ªbut he¡¯d left it in the truck. Too late, he tried to turn the motion into a reach for his cigarette pack, but it was empty. ¡°Lieutenant¡ª¡°If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°If we abandon the MCUs here, sir, we¡¯re condemning this whole control zone. There¡¯s enough Xuduo-Danger firepower in the trucks to knock out Victoria, and you want us to ditch it and run? No. We need to get the JAMES running again. We¡¯re going back,¡± Rodriguez said. One of the L4 troopers¡ªStrauss, maybe¡ªnodded and stood behind her, his weapon not on his shoulder but close enough. ¡°It¡¯s not about Victoria, trooper. We¡¯ve already lost here, but our data might be crucial to stopping this from happening to SeaTac or Los Angeles, or fucking Cape Town. We¡¯re sacrificing Victoria to save the world,¡± Director Smith said, wishing he had his pistol more than ever. Everything had gone pear-shaped, and he needed to get control before¡ª ¡°Director, that won¡¯t work for us. Our friends are out there, and I¡¯m not abandoning them. If you want to drive until you¡¯re out of fuel looking for a way off this island, be my guest, but you¡¯re doing it without the convoy or the RSTs.¡± ¡°Lieutenant, I¡¯m the commanding officer here. If you¡¯re suggesting¡ª¡° ¡°I¡¯m not suggesting. I¡¯m doing,¡± Rodriguez said. She held up her rifle. ¡°RSTs Lambda-4 and -5, on my authority as the highest ranking RST officer, and with the support of Lieutenant Blackstone of RST Lambda-5, I¡¯m taking command of this convoy. We¡¯re turning around and driving hard for VVI HQ. Get those engines started.¡± The convoy rolled to life around Director Smith. Troopers and researchers moved, some immediately and some after weighing their options, but they moved, and as engine after engine started, he found himself alone, in Victoria¡¯s outskirts, with nothing under his command but a single SHOCKS truck, his side-arm, and a craving for a smoke.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The computer lab¡¯s lights go out with a pop, and so do my augs¡ªboth of them. For a solid fifteen seconds, I feel as lopsided as I did in the basic living building. No, worse. It¡¯s so much worse, because I have no idea what¡¯s happening. I can feel my heart trying to escape through my ribs, hammering away like a machine gun¡ªhow long will it last this time? I slump onto the floor¡ªat least I know what to do to not be sick everywhere¡ªand try to think since that¡¯s all I can do. What did I do wrong? What¡¯s my best variable to change? Can I fix this? If I can¡¯t, how can I leave? What¡¯s Sora doing right now? ¡°James? James, are you there?¡± I ask the darkness, not expecting a response. It still feels awful when he doesn¡¯t respond, and I try again. ¡°James? Can you help me?¡± Still nothing. I try to sit up, but my head won¡¯t stop spinning. What is Sora doing right now? From my one trip outside, the rest of Victoria looks pretty bad, and the stuff I read in Smith¡¯s office made it sound like it¡¯s not just Victoria. It¡¯s the whole damn Vancouver Island¡ªmaybe even all of British Columbia. Is that even possible? If it is, where will my friend go? My augs restart slowly; by the time they¡¯re back online, I can¡¯t stop fast-breathing. I try to fight it, but I can¡¯t pull up a single equation. They¡¯re all gone¡ªevery single one of them. I push myself to my feet; the classroom¡¯s gone, and I can¡¯t tell if anything¡¯s changed¡ªuntil¡­ A single blinking light in the bottom left corner of my eye catches my attention. It¡¯s a file¡ªa file labeled ¡®Halcyon Storage.¡¯ And it¡¯s got a little red circle in the lower right corner. Something¡¯s in there, and I think it¡¯s trying to get my attention. When I open it, the files I copied sit there, but there¡¯s something else: ¡®Halcyon Integration.exe.¡¯ The red circle blinks under it. I close the file¡ªand my eyes. JAMES isn¡¯t responding, and even though my augs are running again, I¡¯m not sure what the next step is. I¡¯d expected to be uploading the new, patch-enhanced JAMES program to SHOCKS¡¯s systems, but with the computer lab gone¡ªand it¡¯s definitely gone¡ªI¡¯m not sure what the next step is. But the moments tick on, and with every minute that passes in the dark, LED-lit server room at the bottom of the one-way stairs, Li Mei and the Stag Lord and a hundred other monsters get closer to breaking into the Experimental Sector. Still, I hesitate because I¡¯ve got two real options, and neither looks great. The first is to try running the computers in the server room, figure out how to re-upload the JAMES program to SHOCKS, and muddle through that process, then hope JAMES has better instructions for me. That¡¯s going to take forever, and when it¡¯s over, I won¡¯t be any closer to solving my problems or answering my questions. So that¡¯s not an option. Not really. Or¡­I can open the ¡®Halcyon Integration.exe¡¯ file, and whatever happens next will happen. It¡¯s a gamble. The variables stack up until there¡¯s no way I can solve this equation¡ªno way I can know the Truth before I start the process. I¡¯m okay with that¡ªreally, I am¡ªbut there¡¯s one variable I can¡¯t even make sense of by itself. How did the Halcyon System know I was thinking about this? There¡¯s no way it¡¯s in the SHOCKS system¡ªnot yet, at least. I¡¯m about to feed the whole SHOCKS database to it, but it¡¯s been firewalled and air-gapped out so far. If that¡¯s the case, then the Halcyon System¡¯s not just in my augs. Is it in my head, too? I panic: fast, pointless gasps for air, shivering, and a heart that won¡¯t slow down. It¡¯s only by good luck that I dropped the Halcyon System Inquiry. If I hadn¡¯t, it¡¯d almost certainly have dropped my Stability again, and I¡¯d be fighting some sort of merge down here. I can¡¯t keep dodging bullets like this, though. Something¡¯s going to catch up to me, and whether I trust JAMES or the System or SHOCKS won¡¯t change that. So, as I slowly count backward from twenty, struggling to control my breath and unclench my fists, I open the file in my aug, select ¡®Halcyon Integration.exe,¡¯ and pull it up.
A bunch of stuff happens all at once. I don¡¯t understand most of it¡ªit¡¯s all flashing lights and numbers¡ªbut after a moment, I find myself in another digital-looking space. Unlike the classroom filled with computers, this one feels much more bare-bones. Last year, at West End High, they brought in a digital virtual reality system and let us each have five minutes in it. I put on the wetsuit, stepped inside the machine, and started floating in warm water, the smell of salt in my nose. A moment later, I stood on top of a grassy hill with a beautiful blue-roofed castle in the distance. I got to explore the nearby woods for almost three beautiful minutes, and the whole time, everything felt so real, from the grass under my bare feet to the wet dirt smell in the forest. Then I got pulled out into the not-quite-industrial cleaner scent of the cafeteria pre-lunchtime and the sound of other students jockeying for position in their wetsuits. It was the best five minutes of my freshman year, even counting Truth Club or Mrs. Helquist¡¯s math class. What¡¯s happening right now is nothing like that. My body¡¯s made of yellow lines and dots in a complicated wire-frame that perfectly mirrors my appearance in the real world¡ªright down to the cluster of dots showing a scab on my arm from the glass I broke at West End. I step forward, moving across a black-looking floor and through nothing. A moment later, the void around me shimmers, and a figure appears. It seems small¡ªshorter than me¡ªand skinny. I can¡¯t make out any features from the blue-green glow, and it stands stock-still as if frozen. I take a hesitant step toward it. [James?] My voice doesn¡¯t come out¡ªit echoes in my brain and the void, but not in my ears. {Positive.} The voice booms across my skull and into my augs, filling my brain with images, letters, and sound. It¡¯s almost motherlike¡ªif Mom was a robot with no emotions or feelings. The pitch is perfect, but it¡¯s not quite her¡ªlike it¡¯s borrowed from my mind but not perfectly. A digital reproduction, but one made by a machine, not a person. Soulless. It won¡¯t lie to me, but it¡¯s not out of honesty. The Truth, but nothing but the Truth. {Running System compatibility diagnostic.} A moment later, a second figure appears¡ªthis time not a figure as in a person, but a gigantic, ever-changing geometric figure. It hovers over JAMES and me, its orange dots a thousand miniature suns that weave in and out of each other. I watch a dozen points intersect and merge as the hundred-sided wire-frame loses a side, then gains two more a moment later as it spins. {System compatibility near nominal. Integration likely with minimal change to System function. Continue?} [I want to know some things first,] I say, pointing a glowing yellow finger at the geometric constellation in the middle of the void. It¡¯s the Halcyon System. It has to be. So we¡¯re¡ªI¡¯m¡ªinside of it. [What are you going to do to him?] {Integration.} [But what does that mean?] I ball my fists and glare at it. {System operating at 90% effectiveness for user Claire Pendleton. Integration will increase efficacy to 95%, with incremental gains up to 100%. Access to local databases will increase reliability of System information dramatically. Access to local personality integration will increase¡ª} [What does that mean for him?] I ask, pointing at the blue-green, frozen figure. {Survival.} I open my mouth to tell it to clarify, but the voice in my skull continues before I can. [Likelihood of Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System functionality within forty-eight hours is less than 1% without intervention. Halcyon System analytics have determined with 94% certainty that JAMES information is critical to planet Earth¡¯s survival. Therefore, integration is necessary. The process will preserve the JAMES system¡¯s personality and information within Halcyon.} [And you want me to, what, exactly?] {Choose. Integration or annihilation.} Look, I said before that I was thinking about doing this myself, but when the reality sinks in that it¡¯s my choice what to do with JAMES, who I¡¯m pretty sure is an AI, but who¡¯s seemed more human than the people deciding what to do with me at SHOCKS, it¡¯s suddenly not that easy. I want to push the button and save his life, but at the same time, he¡¯ll know the truth, the truth that I did it without telling him while he was offline and couldn¡¯t choose for himself. I¡¯d be furious if¡ªno, I¡¯ve been furious when it happens to me, when Dad lies about where we¡¯re going, or even something so small as that he¡¯ll make dinner. And JAMES put his trust in me, so I can¡¯t exactly betray that. He¡¯s not Truth Club material, but even so¡­ [How long do I have to decide?] I ask. {Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System functionality loss probability increases with each minute but does not become significant for another three hours. Other factors may influence integration as well.} [Can I talk to James?] He deserves to know what his options are. {Negative. The JAMES System is offline. Communications may be restored. Attempt to restore communications?} I say, [Yes,] and before I can say anything else, the void returns, then the digital-numbery world, then finally, the reality of the LED-lit room at the bottom of the one-way stairs. There¡¯s a new glow, pulsing red, and the words ¡®Experimental Facility Breach¡¯ blink on and off over the stairwell. ¡°James, you okay up there?¡± I ask, not expecting a response, so I¡¯m not disappointed when I don¡¯t get one. I take a deep breath and step onto the one-way stairs, then start climbing with my Revolver ready for Li Mei, the Stag Lord, or whatever¡¯s made it through the airlock. Chapter Sixteen Maroon glow. Electric tang. Roses and machine oil. The point isn¡¯t what happened. The point is that I remember, and that Alice is a liar. But maybe that¡¯s not what¡¯s important. Maybe what¡¯s important is that when the white light faded and the metal squids filled the room, Mom¡¯s lie wasn¡¯t supposed to hurt me. But if it wasn¡¯t, that means Alice¡¯s lie at the fire door wasn¡¯t supposed to hurt me either, and even though I know why she¡¯s a liar¡ªeven though I understand why she can¡¯t handle the truth¡ªit still did. So, even if they wanted to help me with their lies, it didn¡¯t work. Because I can handle the truth, even if they can¡¯t. At least, I think I can.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Before the stairwell door opens, my Revolver¡¯s already up¡ªjust like Rodriguez told me to hold it when I enter a room with an enemy in it. Li Mei¡¯s around somewhere; my first goal is to find her. In the first second, my mind¡¯s so fixated on her¡ªher dark black skin, the tattered coverings, and her black or white eyes¡ªthat I don¡¯t see the plants turn my way. When I do, it¡¯s almost too late. One of them spits spores at me, and I throw myself onto the ground. They cover the air around me, drifting down toward the floor vents that are already sucking them in. I roll on the floor, then pull myself onto one knee and fire the Revolver. The orange burst fills the fifty feet in front of me with fire¡ªand catches the offending flower before it can keep spraying spores. I roll again, feeling stupid; I¡¯m sure JAMES is watching this on the security cameras and laughing. Then I come out of my roll and duck behind a computer bank. Okay, variable one: it¡¯s not Li Mei. Or at least, it¡¯s not just Li Mei. The Stag Lord is in the Experimental Wing. Variables two and three: I don¡¯t know where either is beyond that they¡¯re here. ¡°Li Mei. Bestie! If you¡¯re out there, say something!¡± I say, trying to get her attention. She doesn¡¯t say anything¡ªif she¡¯s even here at all. Maybe she¡¯s not. Maybe the Stag Lord got her. And maybe I¡¯ll grow wings and fly out of here. But the Stag Lord is definitely here somewhere, and if I want to deal with Li Mei, it¡¯s in my best interests to find it. More importantly, if I don¡¯t find it, the whole JAMES experimental wing is going to go jungle. It¡¯ll tear this entire place apart. There¡¯s one more variable, though. I can¡¯t break too much of the experimental wing, either. I break cover and shoot a plant that¡¯s already flinging spiky thorns at me, then pull the trigger to take out a vine before it can unfurl and block my way. My Revolver Mastery skill makes every shot so much easier, to the point where my eyes are already looking for the next plant trying to shoot spikes at me before I¡¯ve even shot the one trying to poison me with a cloud of spores. But the whole time, I¡¯m really looking for two things. The first is the Stag Lord. If I can kill it or ¡®temporarily neutralize¡¯ it, as SHOCKS would say, then I can deal with JAMES without the distraction of fighting a thousand plants that want me dead. I pull the trigger again, sending another ray of flame toward a plant that¡¯s gone from bud to bloom in three seconds. Yeah, the Stag Lord has to go. But more importantly, I¡¯m trying to move toward the center of the experimental wing. That¡¯s where the tank is¡ªwhere JAMES is¡ªand I¡¯m supposed to make sure that the systems he controls are still intact for when I wake him back up. I dive onto the concrete floor, knees and elbows screaming in pain, then roll onto my stomach to shoot another strangling vine. Then, as my feet push me forward, I pass a line, and the plant life disappears. Instead, a pair of turrets pop from the ceiling and aim my way¡ªthe JAMES defense system. They rev up, and I throw myself forward again as their bullets chew up the plants growing behind me. I take a deep breath. I¡¯m safe¡ªfor now. Until the guns run out of ammunition, at least. The Stag Lord¡¯s plants are only growing faster, a thicket that chokes off the whole hallway from the one-way stairs to the room¡¯s center. A thought slips into my head for a moment, uninvited; I want to go home. I push it aside. I¡¯m trying to get home, or at least get out of here, but right now, that means getting to the JAMES controls. I take one step, then another, as freshly sprouted plants turn to freshly ground mulch behind me. Then I¡¯m at the control panel, a massive touch screen. The password is disabled, and instead, a flashing icon with the words ¡®JAMES Unit Offline¡¯ fills the entire screen, along with a tiny button below it labeled ¡®Instructions for Reboot.¡¯ I tap the button. My ears ring from the machine-gun fire as the screen fills with steps.
  1. Disengage JAMES Unit safety locks
  2. Initialize saline tank reset
  3. Reconnect JAMES Unit to SHOCKS database servers
  4. Boot preliminary JAMES subroutines (Good Morning and Until I¡¯ve Had My Coffee)
  5. Initiate core JAMES routines
  6. Engage JAMES Unit safety locks
  7. Boot remaining JAMES subroutines (Data Nerd, Eagle Eye, and Persona)
Okay. Okay, that¡¯s not too much. I can do that. I fiddle with the computer as the machine guns continue their nonstop staccato barrage and eventually find the control for ¡®Saline Tank Reset.¡¯ The safety locks are another story, and I decide to check the actual tank for those. Sure enough, they¡¯re literal locks¡ªfour huge valves that cut off pipes leading into the massive tank in the room¡¯s center. As I crank them, something starts moving through each pipe, and when I get back to the computer, the ¡®Saline Tank Reset¡¯ control is lit up. I press the button, and something under my feet hums to life. I can feel the vibrations as the slow movement from unlocking the pipes turns into an almost-roaring flow I can hear in the background beneath the machine-gun fire. The computer screen reads ¡®Saline Tank Reset: 20% Complete.¡¯ 30%. 50%. 80%. Then, the shaking and vibration stop almost as suddenly as it began. {Skill Learned: Anomalous Computing Systems 2} ¡°Okay,¡± I say to myself¡ªand JAMES, if he¡¯s listening. ¡°Okay, four more steps. ¡®Reconnect JAMES Unit to SHOCKS Database.¡¯ Should be easy enough.¡± I click through the options on the screen, and sure enough, there¡¯s a connection protocol for ¡®Good Morning¡¯ but not one for ¡®Until I¡¯ve Had My Coffee.¡¯ I start ¡®Good Morning,¡¯ and, shockingly, a peppy song starts playing. It sounds like one of those radio alarm clocks, except I don¡¯t know how to stop it, and it keeps getting louder and louder as it competes with the machine guns. An LED strip on the floor lights up green, and I watch as it slowly pulses its lights toward the exercise equipment. A moment later, something steps out of the tank¡¯s wall. My revolver goes up momentarily, covering the newcomer.
JAMES¡ªor a digital avatar of him, there must be projectors around¡ªstarts following the pulsing LED line toward the workout equipment. He¡¯s mostly points and connectors, an almost-perfect clone of the balled-up, fetal-positioned version of him in whatever reality the Halcyon System brought me to, but this one glows a little brighter and seems incomplete somehow. ¡°James, you there?¡± I ask, but he ignores me. He keeps on walking, so I hurry to follow him. He might be ignoring me, but I can¡¯t do the same for him, not if he¡¯s supposed to be a friend or even if he¡¯s a known liar. So, as he weaves through the treadmills and stair-steppers, I¡¯m one step behind him. I¡¯m not sure why he¡¯s avoiding them; he could just as easily step through them. I¡¯m halfway through the last thought when I realize that while JAMES is ignoring me, someone else isn¡¯t. ¡°Hi, bestie,¡± Li Mei¡¯s voice echoes from the wall. Her wrappings are nearly gone, with only a few tattered scraps hanging from her shoulders and hips. Everywhere else, her near-jet black body¡¯s become almost blob-like, and her eyes have started shifting from black to red. ¡°I knew you could do it. You¡¯re such a great friend.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The Revolver flies up of its own accord, my finger tightening on the trigger, and the gout of flame erupts from its barrel, drowning out the constant chatter of the machine guns for a moment. The brilliant orange blast spears into Li Mei, and the rags she¡¯s wearing burst into flame. As it does, the blob-shape of her body seems to explode free from them, growing into a mass whose head scrapes the ceiling. The walking shadow¡¯s body oozes around my shot, seeming to absorb it, and then shivers. Two red eyes open in the center of her body, piercing me. ¡°Li Mei, back off, or I¡¯ll shoot you again,¡± I say, holding the Revolve out and aimed at her as the digital, spectral JAMES walks in between us and climbs onto a treadmill. He starts running, and Li Mei¡¯s eyes flick to him hungrily. After a moment, they settle on me. ¡°I can¡¯t. I really can¡¯t. I¡¯m so close to getting all that tasty knowledge, and you¡¯ve helped me out so much!¡± The shadowy mass extends two vaguely arm-shaped tendrils and lunges toward JAMES. I fire again, and the gout of flame punches into Li Mei. She absorbs it again, this time pausing for a moment. Then she engulfs JAMES¡ª ¡ªwho walks out of her body like she¡¯s not even there. Her scream of anguish fills the air, piercing the faltering staccato machine gun fire. ¡°Why? Why, why, why?¡± No matter how hard her power presses down on me, I can''t answer that question, but it tries to squeeze the truth from me. My eyes water and ears ring¡ªnot just the augs, but both of them¡ªand I choke out, ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe he¡¯s not real.¡± It¡¯s not the truth; I know it, but I also don¡¯t know the correct answer. {Skill Learned: Compulsion Resistance 1: Increases mental resilience against mind-affecting powers} It works, though. Li Mei backs off, her eyes turning from pink to a dark crimson that almost blends into her body as she fades away into a shadowy mist. More importantly, the pressure in my head stops, and I gasp for air as the world spins. When I steady out, JAMES is already on the move again, this time back toward the tank¡ªand the machine guns and mound of diced plants just inside the painted line on the floor. I hurry back to the computer, but I¡¯ve got a new problem because I¡¯m pretty sure I understand why Li Mei couldn¡¯t attack JAMES, and I¡¯m equally sure she¡¯s either figured it out or will soon. If I finish the rebooting process, she¡¯ll get to attack JAMES through the same console I¡¯m staring at now, and this time, she¡¯ll succeed. So, the equation¡¯s set. If I equal Li Mei + The Stag Lord, JAMES is safe. If not, he¡¯s not. It''s pretty simple, except there¡¯s one other variable. I can go back to the Halcyon System¡¯s digital world and integrate them without talking to JAMES first. It¡¯d be the safest, fastest option. But it¡¯s not really an option. I can¡¯t do that to him, so I step away from the console after locking it. Hopefully, it¡¯ll unlock again for my Acting Director title. If not, I¡¯ll figure something out. Right now, though, the truth is that Li Mei¡¯s not my biggest problem, because as soon as she realizes she just has to wait for me to get what she wants, she¡¯ll do that happily. She might even help me out. So, at least for now, my problem is The Stag Lord.
Li Mei¡¯s shadow keeps stalking me as I check the Revolver and step past the towering mound of shredded foliage the machine guns have created. The Stag Lord seems to have given up, or at least decided¡ªas much as it can decide anything¡ªto try a new plan. Across the experimental room, near the overgrown airlock, stands an ever-growing mass of roots and vines. It towers over the tank, the servers on either side of it, and, of course, me. It¡¯s building itself armor, judging by the mass¡¯s shape. Once it¡¯s finished, it¡¯ll overwhelm the machine gun, and I can¡¯t let that happen. I check the Revolver¡¯s cylinder, satisfied all the shots are available, and step across the salad-covered yellow line. The moment I do, the mound breaks open at its center, and the Stag Lord erupts outward in a burst of colored petals and vines. Its body looks kind of like it did before, with the same skull for a head and root-bound torso, but instead of legs, two massive roots connect it to the gigantic wooden incubator it¡¯s been hiding in. I fire the Revolver, which punches a hole through the Stag Lord¡¯s stomach, leaving burned roots charred black in a circle but not catching the core inside the roots. A second later, the Stag Lord lunges my way, and its arms erupt into vines and razor-sharp leaves. I throw myself to the ground, feeling paper cuts scoring my neck and head through my hoodie. I roll as the vines slam into the floor hard enough to dent the concrete and send chips raining down around me, pull the trigger again, and stand up. This shot misses high, and before I can fire again, the Stag Lord closes the gap¡ªthen stops feet away as I backpedal. Its roots stretch out behind it, extended as far as they can go, and I whip the Revolver around to shoot at one of them. It catches fire, and the Stag Lord¡¯s scream sounds like the feral cats living on our basic living building¡¯s roof. It thrashes around, crashing into server banks that¡ªthankfully¡ªstay upright, and smashing the anomaly¡¯s body against the concrete floor. I¡¯m so busy watching the chaos that the first time I notice the spiked flower growing next to me is when it launches its pointy dart into my shoulder. I drop the Revolver to grab at the six-inch spike with my other hand, and a moment later, the air fills with orange-yellow pollen that cuts my vision to nothing. {Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 3} I drop to the ground, groping for the Revolver, but as I do, the Stag Lord¡¯s body thumps into the concrete next to me, and I have to scramble away. Every move sends a lance of pain ripping across my shoulder, and I stop just across the yellow paint line on the concrete. Li Mei stops in the shadows nearby, red eyes fixated on me hungrily, and the Stag Lord hangs in the air for a moment before the remaining root drags it back into the root-and-vine construct it¡¯s building. The moment it does, she scoots forward, past the yellow line and into what should be my safe space away from her. ¡°Now what are you going to do?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to get my Revolver back¡ªstop!¡± I glare at her, and she laughs. ¡°Why are you even talking to me?¡± I don¡¯t care that I¡¯m giving her a question¡ªif she wanted to melt down my brain, she¡¯d have just jumped on me. Sure enough, her eyes boil from dull burgundy all the way to pink, and her shadowy body swells and shakes. ¡°Because I can¡¯t turn the JAMES system back on. You have to do it, and I can¡¯t even make you do it. I tried already. But you have to, not because of me, but because of you. So, I¡¯ll help you fight the Stag Lord, you¡¯ll turn on the JAMES unit, and we¡¯ll both be happy, best friend.¡± I glare at her, then stick out my hand. Her tendril¡¯s grasp is cold and wet, but not like an octopus¡¯s tentacle¡ªmore like the kind of wet when you walk into a fog wall on your way to the bus. It doesn¡¯t leave my fingers moist, but it¡¯s undeniably damp. ¡°Deal. Help me get the Revolver back.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Li Mei fades to almost nothing, then sweeps along the right wall like a specter. Behind her, flowers dissolve into slurry, and I pause for a moment to add this new information to my calculations. Then I¡¯m dashing right toward the Stag Lord¡¯s cocoon-thing¡ªtoward my Revolver. Spike plants erupt all around me, and a flower sprays some sort of liquid across the room as it wilts in seconds, but I duck through the worst of it. My shoulder burns, but I reach down, grab the Revolver¡¯s grip, and unload three shots into a spike plant and two suspiciously close flowers. Then I roll as the Stag Lord¡¯s body surges from its cocoon and slams into the floor again. The spike in my shoulder snaps, sending a wave of pain and nausea rolling through me, but I keep a grip on my Revolver and push myself into a dive as it slams down again. This time, I cough up something from my stomach, swallow it back down, and spit, then fire the Revolver at another plant whose bladed leaves slice through the air. Lei Mei¡¯s shadowy form surges around the room, choking the Stag Lord¡¯s plants wherever she goes, and I realize she¡¯s not moving randomly. She¡¯s trying to make a safe spot for me to fight the Stag Lord. I dash into the little plant-free pocket and aim. The Stag Lord rises over me, and I pull the trigger. The barrel flashes orange, and the Stag Lord plummets down onto the ground next to me, severed from its cocoon. It roars in agony or fury and gets its ¡®feet¡¯ under it. I take a step back, then another; it¡¯s bigger than Li Mei and absolutely dwarfs me. Its skull-shaped head turns, its hollow eye sockets peering at me, and I throw myself to the floor as another spike plant lunges toward my stomach. The spike tears my hoodie, and I roll again. Then I fire into the Stag Lord¡¯s chest, sending a burst of fire through it. It staggers back, roaring again, and this time, I know: that¡¯s not anger. That¡¯s pain. I fire again and again, not stopping even when my knuckles blister and the Revolver¡¯s barrel glows orange. When its hammer clicks on an unready bullet, I rush up and kick the Stag Lord¡¯s body, rolling it onto its back so I can see into its torso. I¡¯ve punched three holes in it, and two might¡¯ve hit the smaller monster inside the root-and-limb armor. But it won¡¯t open. So, gritting my teeth, I put the barrel against the Stag Lord¡¯s chest and pull the trigger again as soon as a shell glows ready. {Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 6} And this time, there¡¯s no scream of agony or rage. This time, it doesn¡¯t move. I slump down next to it. The plants covering the room are already wilting, and it looks like I¡¯ve killed it this time. Which means there¡¯s one thing left to do. I pull on the roots and brambles until the armor cracks, then pry it the rest of the way open. The Stag Lord¡ªthe true Stag Lord¡ªsits inside, massive burn marks across its naked, hair-covered body. Its four eyes are closed, and its chest isn¡¯t moving, but I can¡¯t bring myself to touch it. I can¡¯t even bring myself to look at it anymore; whatever this anomaly was, it isn¡¯t anymore, and that¡¯s a good thing for everyone. {Truth Learned: What is the Stag Lord?} {Skill Learned: Open Mind} I take a deep breath and use Open Mind. My brain almost seems to expand, like it¡¯s more capable of understanding; the Stag Lord was never meant to be boxed away. If it¡¯d been left to its own devices, it would have disappeared into northern Vancouver Island and never come here. It might not have even caused problems once it got there. I don¡¯t know how I know that, but I feel like it¡¯s the Truth. Not a small truth, but a big one. The kind that answers questions, like why the Stag Lord was ripping the Xuduo containment wing apart. It wanted to be free. Like me. {Stability 3/10} I don¡¯t have time to dig deeper into its mystery, though. Li Mei¡¯s shadowy form solidifies next to me, and though I can¡¯t see a mouth in the shapeless blob she¡¯s become, her red eyes seem to smile at me. ¡°Now that that¡¯s finished, let¡¯s talk about JAMES.¡± Chapter Seventeen Alice had a boyfriend for a couple of weeks last year. I wasn¡¯t supposed to know about him. Neither was Dad. He was Alice¡¯s dirty little secret, but even though her whole life¡¯s a lie, she¡¯s not good at keeping them. So, when I found out, she begged me not to tell Dad. She said she¡¯d give me whatever I wanted, but I couldn¡¯t tell him because he¡¯d freak out. I didn¡¯t tell him. Obviously. But he found out anyway. And when he did, he and Alice fought. It got loud. I turned up my Knights of the Apocalypse game until the eight-bit music hurt my ears, but I could still hear them screaming at each other. The next day, they broke up. She blamed me, of course.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - I shiver as Li Mei launches into a tirade about how now that the Stag Lord is gone, I ¡°owe her¡± for ¡°saving me¡± and how she ¡°needs access to the JAMES system now¡± or she¡¯ll ¡°have to reevaluate who her friends are.¡± She doesn¡¯t ask me any questions, but I shiver anyway. The Revolver¡¯s useless here; it punched nice holes in the Stag Lord, but Li Mei¡¯s shadowy form seemed to pretty much ignore it. She was staggered but not wounded. That leaves me in a bad place. I¡¯ve got to out-maneuver a thirty-plus-year-old anomaly that I can¡¯t hurt, who can force me to comply with her just by asking a question, and who¡¯s determined to eat someone¡ªor something¡ªI just decided was my friend. She¡¯s still got me in the ¡®Best Friend¡¯ category, but who knows how long that¡¯ll last? And when she decides to ¡®reevaluate,¡¯ what will that mean for our relationship¡ªand for my survival? I¡¯m not sure. But I do know that if she gets access to JAMES, it¡¯ll be bad for him and me. So, after listening to her breathless, rambling monologue about how important it is for her, I do the only thing I can do. I nod and stand up. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s get in the System. I¡¯ll need your help on a couple of steps, though.¡± ¡°Of course. Of course.¡± Li Mei¡¯s eyes seem to smile at me, but it¡¯s impossible to be sure. Her tone sounds much more friendly, though, and I let myself relax just the tiniest fraction. ¡°Let me know what¡¯s first.¡± ¡°Okay. First, I need you to check the JAMES Unit¡¯s safety locks. They should all be disengaged, but with the fighting, we need to be sure.¡± I do not care about the JAMES safety locks. I just want Li Mei to be as far away from the monitor as I can get her. ¡°I¡¯ll check the instructions for the next step while you¡¯re doing that.¡± She slides away without saying anything. The moment she¡¯s out of range, I start tapping on the screen, searching for any countermeasures against her that might keep the JAMES Unit safe. Nothing active comes up, just that the tank is built to handle Xuduo-Danger anomaly attacks for long enough that the automated defenses can kick in and eliminate the threat. That¡¯s fine, except that the automatic machine guns aren¡¯t targeting Li Mei, and I¡¯m not sure they¡¯d hurt her if they did. She¡¯s ignoring the other defenses, too; the Universal Reality Anchors aren¡¯t stopping her, and neither is anything on the research sector¡¯s list of passive barriers. I keep digging, looking for anything weaponizable or a half-truth I can feed Li Mei to keep her distracted so I have time to make a plan. But there¡¯s not much else in here¡ªat least not that¡¯s not buried so deep I wouldn¡¯t be able to cover my tracks. Li Mei would figure out my lie for sure if I pulled up any info on her, for example. Li Mei¡¯s back faster than I¡¯d hoped, and I quickly pull up the next step on my list.
  1. Initiate Core JAMES routines
I open the program and skim all the sub-steps. There are dozens of them, and just about none of them give me a window to leave this computer¡ªor get Li Mei away again. I carefully, slowly maneuver through each step, trying to conceal what I¡¯m actually doing¡ªstalling¡ªfrom Li Mei. Her red eyes watch me as I slowly connect the only partially booted JAMES unit to most of the SHOCKS system¡¯s programs, and her shadowy tendril arms reach toward the ¡®Initiate¡¯ button, but I shoo her away with way more confidence than I feel. ¡°Li Mei, there¡¯s a step down those stairs. Make sure the sub-systems are all running. The initialization won¡¯t activate unless everything down there is connected properly, and I might have messed up the communications routines. Thanks.¡± ¡°You should do it.¡± Li Mei¡¯s eyes narrow, and she stares at me. I can feel her suspicion weighing down on me. It¡¯s like a soaking-wet comforter, too heavy to carry and drenching my clothes. I nod. ¡°I should, but I can¡¯t. You can¡¯t run the main computer, but you should be able to check the sub-systems. If you try to run this part, it¡¯ll probably lock up, and then I¡¯ll have to reevaluate our friendship.¡± She stiffens and starts float-walking toward the stairs, then looks over her shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re besties. I trust you, but don¡¯t do anything until I get back.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got it, bestie.¡± Besties don¡¯t lie to each other. But besties don¡¯t try to force each other to help them, either, so as soon as she hits the first step down to the tiny room at the bottom of the one-way stairs, I move to the next step in the reboot sequence. I type in a new command pattern. The screen feels warm against my sweaty fingers, but I still find the option I want. Eject JAMES Unit WARNING: JAMES Unit should only be ejected in case of an emergency threatening facility, during which the on-site self-destruct is disabled. Unit must be reinstalled in its tank or an identical backup within 24 hours. Continue? Yes/No. I click ¡®Yes¡¯ and quickly run through the steps, heart racing and stomach in my throat. If Li Mei comes back too soon, I¡¯m screwed. Royally. The safety locks are already offline, so I find the commands to offload the JAMES system into another place¡ªnot that I need it, he¡¯s already copied onto my augs¡ªand run that. It takes five painful minutes, and my shoulder aches from the spike plant¡¯s attack, but after a barrage of humming and clunking, a tiny microdisk pops out of the computer in front of me. The tank stops humming, and something clicks. Then it opens slowly, with steam and fog billowing out. And I realize I was wrong about everything.
The air fills with the smell of the sea¡ªthe good kind, salty water and clean beaches. Lying in the tank, surrounded by dark black water, is a boy my age. His dark hair¡¯s little more than stubble, and I can barely see it through the translucent cap on his head. Wires reach from the cap into the tank¡¯s wall, and a mask covers his mouth. The wetsuit covering his body hangs loosely except around his wrists, neck, and ankles, and the skin I can see is so pale and wrinkled it¡¯s clear he¡¯s been in the tank for a long time. A long time. Longer than a couple of days. Probably longer than I¡¯ve been alive. I try not to throw up, but my stomach rolls, and I have to look away for a moment. When I do, I catch sight of the one-way stairs anomaly, and swallow down the bile. I¡¯ll have time to be horrified later. ¡°James?¡± I ask, not expecting a response. I¡¯m still crushed when I don¡¯t get one, though. JAMES isn¡¯t an AI. He¡¯s never been an AI, and he didn¡¯t lie to me about that. But whatever he is, he¡¯s not human anymore, even if he did start out that way. The horror¡¯s still there, but I¡¯ve got a grip on it. I think. I hope. SHOCKS did something to him¡ªsomething that I definitely can¡¯t reverse. The boy floating in the tank isn¡¯t breathing, and when I grit my teeth and reach down to touch his hand, it¡¯s icy cold¡ªcolder than the water around him, even.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Somehow, that¡¯s more comforting than it should be. Me running the emergency disconnect didn¡¯t kill him. He¡¯s been dead for a long time¡ªprobably for longer than he¡¯s been in the tank. I take a deep breath and wait for a Halcyon System notification about the Joint Anomalous System. There¡¯s information there, or in the SHOCKS databases, or on the computer, about what happened here. About what SHOCKS did to a kid. I just need to dig a little more, or wait for a message. That¡¯s all. Just wait. It doesn¡¯t come. And after almost twenty seconds of waiting, I realize it¡¯s not going to. But Li Mei is. I pull the tank¡¯s lid closed over James¡¯s body, an idea forming in my head, and rush back to the computer. Then, I quickly palm the microdisk and maneuver the screen back to the JAMES reboot instructions. Hopefully, my pale face and the shivering I can¡¯t quite stop won¡¯t give me away. Hopefully, she won¡¯t smell the bile on my breath. I¡¯ve got one chance to deal with Li Mei, so I take a deep breath as she comes up the stairs. ¡°Okay, good news and bad news. The good news is there¡¯s only one step left, and it¡¯s the reboot for the JAMES unit¡¯s main programs. The bad news is it also takes two people because SHOCKS¡¯s monitoring equipment inside the tank is faulty. I need you to manually adjust it so the AI core inside is being monitored correctly.¡± ¡°That¡­seems sloppy on SHOCKS¡¯s part,¡± Li Mei says from the stairs. ¡°Too sloppy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting errors whenever I try to access the sub-steps for Step Seven,¡± I lie. ¡°It needs someone to run the computer and someone to fix the equipment in the tank. Sorry.¡± We¡¯re both doing a question dance, avoiding them, and I can¡¯t figure out why Li Mei won¡¯t just ask one and force the truth out of me. It¡¯s almost too convenient for me. Her scarlet eyes blaze and go nearly pink for a moment, like she¡¯s looking through me. ¡°Li Mei, we¡¯re best friends. I just need help with this last step, and then you can get into the JAMES system.¡± The best part about that sentence is that it¡¯s the truth, and she knows it. She just doesn¡¯t know why it¡¯s the truth. She still hesitates, but I can see her hungering. It takes her almost ten seconds before her eyes slowly lose their burning white cores, and the shadow starts moving toward the tank. I pull in a shallow breath. It worked. I fiddle with the computer for a few heartbeats longer, then turn to follow her. And that¡¯s my first mistake. Li Mei¡¯s eyes lock onto mine. ¡°What?¡± The shadow seems to turn toward me, though without any other features, it¡¯s hard to be sure. I fight it. I fight it until it feels like my mind¡¯s about to explode, until it seems like I¡¯ve been struggling against it for an eternity, even though it¡¯s been half a second¡­a second. The pressure keeps building and building until all I can think about are Li Mei¡¯s burning white eyes peering into me. And then something breaks. {Skill Learned: Compulsion Resistance 2} ¡°The computer told me where to look,¡± I lie smoothly. A distant part of my mind splinters and I can feel my Stability drop¡ªit¡¯s close to nothing again¡ªbut my voice doesn¡¯t catch. ¡°You¡¯ll need to open it up and plug the power systems back in. I¡¯ll type in the code. Clearance stuff.¡± {Stability 2/10} She seems to smile again. She has no idea, but I can¡¯t keep lying for long, so I step past her, showing my back to the information vampire like I¡¯m not trying to trick her, like we¡¯re working together. Like we¡¯re best friends. And that¡¯s what does it. She shivers, almost like a nod, and slides next to me. ¡°Open it up, then get back to the computer.¡± I walk to the keypad and pretend to push a few buttons, then crack the tank¡¯s lid. ¡°There you go. All yours.¡± Then I start retreating to the computer. I take three steps. Four. All this could be ruined if she¡¯d just asked if I was lying to her before, but now? Now, I¡¯m invincible. I can deal with Li Mei. I can deal with anything. The tank creaks open a little farther, and I count to three. Then I whirl, Revolver up, and start firing into Li Mei¡¯s smoke-shadow body.
Each shot does almost nothing, but by the time I¡¯ve emptied the Revolver¡¯s cylinder and the bullets in it have stopped glowing, Li Mei¡¯s body has five holes in it¡ªand the tank has an orange-glowing spot where I¡¯ve missed and a few more where I haven¡¯t. Li Mei smiles a shadow-toothed smirk and surges toward me as her body starts reforming. I push her. Hard. [Truth Learned: Li Mei and Infovampires 1] [Stability 1/10] [Skill Learned: Smoke Form] My hands push into the shadow smoke for a moment before it starts feeling solid, and I shove her forward. Every moment I¡¯m touching her, it feels like she¡¯s ripping into my mind, searching for something to turn against me, and I clench my jaw and push back, my brain shoving as hard as my arms. She tips into the tank, screaming in hatred and rage. Then, as she struggles to pull herself together, I yank the tank¡¯s lid down, trapping her inside the water¡ªwith James. Not JAMES, but James. The tank rocks on its steel legs, but even completely unbound from her wrappings, Li Mei¡¯s not powerful enough to break free from it. I scoop up the recharging Revolver, slap the keypad¡¯s big red ¡®Lock¡¯ button, and hurry to the computer. There¡¯s a timer: eight hours, twenty-two minutes, and a few seconds, and under it, a sentence. ¡®Warning: JAMES Tank degredation imminent.¡¯ Half a minute passes, and the number¡¯s eight hours and eighteen minutes. So it¡¯s only a matter of time before Li Mei breaks free, but at least she¡¯s not getting out right now. The tank¡¯s built to keep Xuduo-Danger Anomalies out, after all. It¡¯ll keep one in. So, new equation. The Stag Lord¡¯s gone. Li Mei is ¡®temporarily neutralized.¡¯ Which means all I need to do is convince James¡ªI can¡¯t call him JAMES anymore, he¡¯s not even an AI, but what is he?¡ªto cooperate. Given that his body¡¯s in a tank with an enraged infovampire, that shouldn¡¯t be hard. I should have three hours before Li Mei gets out. Maybe a little less. By that point, I should be long gone. So, instead of jumping down the stairs or opening the ¡®Halcyon Integration.exe¡¯ file, I start digging into the computer. And eventually, after what seems like an hour, I find it. - - - - - [Anomaly] Entity - 0-P-4/LO-1-Prime [Status] Contained [Type] Post-Life, Limited-Omniscient, Digital [Danger] Atero [Containment] Entity - 0-P-4/LO-1-Prime is held in various Shocks Headquarters buildings in the Joint Anomalous Management Enhancement System Experimental Sector. Its body is to be held inside a reality-anchor-protected tank filled with salt water, with multiple Faraday cages in place and armed autonomous sentries outside of it. LO-1-Prime¡¯s brain activity is to be monitored at all times. Clearance is only given to Directors and Director-approved researchers, with no more than ten non-Directors involved in the program at any time. These containment measures are for LO-1-Prime¡¯s protection. In the event that LO-1-Prime¡¯s body must be moved, its consciousness must be downloaded into a storage device, as the body cannot sustain consciousness outside of its containment tank. The stored consciousness must be reinstalled at a new, identical chamber in another SHOCKS facility within 24 hours. Due to LO-1-Prime¡¯s status as a Post-Life anomaly, the Experimental Sector is to be left in exactly the same configuration as it was on the day of its death. Any changes to the space must be reset by 04:13 daily. Failure to do so may result in cooperation failures and the need for enhanced containment procedures. To facilitate this, other facilities worldwide currently host JAMES facilities, along with duplicated consciousnesses. [Description] Entity - 0-P-4/LO-1-Prime is a human cadaver, formerly of a fourteen-year-old male named Sidney Alexander. Sidney showed beyond-savant levels of technological aptitude and, upon being tested, was found to be anomalous. However, the low-grade anomaly was considered to be non-threatening, and with a media restriction and special medication, Sidney was allowed to live a relatively normal life. After he was killed in a car accident on July 12, 2034, SHOCKS took custody of his body. They discovered that his consciousness had transferred to a digital watch he was wearing and began working on integrating it into an alternative storage system. After [REDACTED] experiments, Sidney¡¯s consciousness was transferred outside his wristwatch and integrated into the SHOCKS emergency system on July 15, 2034. LO-Prime-1¡¯s consciousness is considered an Atero-Danger anomaly. Though its current access to SHOCKS intranet systems makes it a potentially world-ending threat, its cooperation is near-universal. Its access to SHOCKS databases and control systems globally makes it appear omniscient within SHOCKS facilities. Still, its status as a digital, post-life entity offers SHOCKS several means of control. SHOCKS researchers cannot currently replicate this process outside of direct digital cloning, though experimentation is underway. - - - - - I stop reading. I¡¯ve read enough¡ªI don¡¯t want to know more of the truth, because the Truth, the real Truth with a capital T, is that SHOCKS has been putting this kid¡¯s ghost to work for a while, and that¡­that changes things. It changes things a lot. For one thing, I may have to figure out how to let James, or Sidney, or whoever he is move on. I don¡¯t want to kill him, but he¡¯s already dead, and he may not want to be here anymore. I understand that, believe me. I don¡¯t want to be here a minute longer than I have to, either. Now that I know, I have to help him if he wants me to¡ªeven if it means losing the only friend I¡¯ve really got in this place. And that leads to a potential major problem. Li Mei¡¯s in there with his body; if he wants to move on, I¡¯ll probably need to open the tank. I¡¯ll have to manage her permanently someday, but I don¡¯t have the skills to do it now. So, hopefully, James is okay with waiting or wants to live. Either way, though, I won¡¯t know until I talk to him. I fiddle with my augs and open the ¡®Halcyon Integration.exe¡¯ file. Chapter Eighteen [Incident Report IV-1 Alpha: Subject - 043-V-23/IVTP, September 03, 2035] Background: On September 03, 2035, a dual containment breach occurred at SHOCKS Headquarters Victoria/Vancouver Island. Two Xuduo-Danger anomalies escaped confinement; the first, IVTP, was initially deemed less of a threat, while the second required immediate recontainment in order to avoid a chain breach across both the Xuduo and Qishi wings. During their attempt to recontain the secondary breach, SHOCKS lost track of IV-1. The following is a reconstruction of events based on security footage, monitoring devices outside of various containment cells, and interviews with IVTP following recontainment. 13:25 - IVTP is spotted moving into the Xuduo-Danger containment wing in the wake of RST Lambda-Three¡¯s advance. It stops outside a cell (later confirmed to contain Object 21-T-03/RS-2), shakes its head, and continues moving. In the footage, its wrappings appear to be tattering as it walks, checking a total of seventeen other containment cells before repeating its actions and moving to the next block. As it goes, its wrappings continue to unravel and fall apart, and it becomes more and more ephemeral. 13:29 - IVTP stops in front of Object - 213-VVI-1/PA¡¯s cell. The last of its wrappings disintegrate, and a moment later, it disappears in a cloud of black smoke. 13:29 - The internal monitoring in the containment unit activates as IVTP lands. PA¡¯s containment protocols respond automatically, flooding the room with liquid napalm to a depth of three feet. Two voices can be heard screaming through the in-wall listening devices. Of note is the plant growth in the cell, which was later measured at 76% higher than average. 13:30 - IVTP appears outside of PA¡¯s containment, eyes pinkish-white. Their color darkens over the next minute as it hums to itself, watching the cell door. 13:37 - IVTP repeats its entrance into the containment cell, resulting in an additional flood of napalm. Plant growth is only 32% higher this time than average, and screaming from inside the chamber can be heard much more clearly. 13:31 - IVTP appears outside of PA¡¯s containment again. It takes nearly three minutes for it to recover this time. Of note: The subject¡¯s form appears to vomit dark smoke into the hall for almost a full minute, setting off multiple fire suppression systems. During this time, SHOCKS personnel reestablish visual contact with IVTP through security systems and begin directing RST Lambda-Three toward it. 13:33 - Containment is re-established on the first breach, and RST Lambda-Three moves into the Xuduo-Danger containment wing to secure IV-1. 13:36 - IVTP allows itself to be taken into custody and placed in a temporary containment unit in the Geren-Danger wing. 14:54 - Post-breach check-ups on other anomalies reveal that Object - 213-VVI-1/PA¡¯s plant growth has spiked to 143% of average and that it threatens a breach within two hours. Additional napalm is applied to its cell on a fifteen-minute rotation until, at 17:53, it is declared temporarily neutralized. Shortly after, IVTP allows itself to be re-wrapped in fresh bandages and demands an interview with the headquarters director. Note: From interviews, IVTP¡¯s actions seemed motivated by anger or hostility toward PA, though they also prevented a potentially catastrophic third breach. Containment procedures were updated to reflect increased access to Geren and lower-Danger anomalies and escorted visits to the Xuduo and Qishi-Danger wings in hopes of using IVTP as a containment-enhancing anomaly. It is theorized that IVTP may have predictive powers regarding other anomalies. Reclassification to Atero is pending. [Update] Despite further testing, the subject has not shown any further predictive powers. As long as it remains cooperative, additional contact with anomalies will be continued, as interaction has reduced the number of question events by 73%. Reclassification to Atero denied.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Just like that, I¡¯m back in the void, back in my yellow-dots-and-lines body. James is still lying there in his fetal position, blue-green dots glowing faintly, and now that I know what¡¯s happened to him, I have a moment of guilt, of hesitation. But I grit my teeth; it¡¯s not my fault what happened to him, and I¡¯m going to give him a chance at something better than being a brain in a jar¡ªor in a tank. And to my left, hovering in the sky, is the orange glowing pentacontogon¡ªor maybe more than 50 faces, it¡¯s hard to tell. Its number of sides keeps changing as edges and points merge and separate. [Alright, I¡¯ve got a problem,] I ¡®say¡¯ to the Halcyon System. [I can¡¯t talk to James out there, but you¡¯ve got him in here, and I¡¯ve got a second version. You can load one of these up, right?] I put a hand on my hip, where the Revolver would sit if I was real. It¡¯s a little worrying how much it¡¯s become a part of me, but I push that aside. [Right?] {Possible. JAMES System status is different than expected. Beginning communications request} It takes almost a minute before the curled-up ball that¡¯s James¡¯s body turns its head and looks at me. [What?] He asks dully. [Hi, I¡¯m Claire, and I¡¯m going to save your life¡ªor kill you.] I hold up my hands as he starts, hurriedly adding, [It¡¯s up to you, I promise. You¡¯re already dead, you¡¯re an electric ghost or something, and it sounds like SHOCKS used you as an experiment. Sorry.] I¡¯m not lying to him. Not right now¡ªnot when he needs to know what¡¯s going on and what¡¯s at stake for him. I continue before he can stop me. [They turned you into a Post-Life Entity and plugged you into their computer system, but that system¡¯s under attack by an Information Vampire and maybe the big orange sun floating over there, so I got you out. I can save your life, but it¡¯ll have to happen soon. Or, if you¡¯d rather just go, I can¡­I can make that happen.] I trail off awkwardly. The blue-green figure stands up, and I¡¯m shocked at how skinny he looks. My yellow dot-and-line grid of a body looks¡­well, like me. A little out of shape, but not much; I take after Dad, not Mom. James looks absolutely malnourished, and I wince as he mumbles, [What do you want to do?] [So, your body¡¯s not functional anymore, and I can¡¯t get you to a replacement in time. But the Halcyon System¡ª] I point to the glowing orange shape, [¡ªcan integrate you into it. You¡¯d become its¡­personality, I guess? With access to its database and stuff.] [How would that be different than what I¡¯ve been doing?] James asks. I can¡¯t see a scowl on his face¡ªthe simulation we¡¯re in doesn¡¯t allow for facial features, much less expressions¡ªbut I can feel it. I think for a minute, trying to find the truth. When I hit on it, I realize it¡¯s not what he wants to hear, but dammit, it¡¯s what he needs to make a good choice. [You¡¯re choosing it this time.] It¡¯s quiet for a long time. The seconds tick by, imperceptibly but constantly, and I¡¯m about to say something else when James nods slowly. [Okay.] For a moment, I almost sigh in relief, but before I can, the Halcyon System¡¯s motherlike voice fills my head. {No. There are concerns. JAMES System status understood. Formerly-living creature.} [What does that change?] I shout, whirling toward the orange sun and glaring as my hand drops to my waist again. I can feel the heat building inside me, and I¡¯m about ready to fight someone¡ªif there was only someone to fight!Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. {Everything. Normal Integration is likely impossible and will cause irreversible changes to the Halcyon System if successful. Further, Integration would violate Halcyon System protocols without permission from the being in question.} Heat fills my face, and I step toward the gigantic sun-like shape in the air before realizing how dumb that is. What am I going to do to it? Punch it? It wouldn¡¯t even feel it. [Permission? He¡¯s right there, giving you permission! We¡¯re both going to die if you don¡¯t do this! Besides, didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d do it like an hour ago? What¡¯s different now?] {Halcyon System protocols are to change sentient, living beings as little as possible. Therefore, Integration with the JAMES System would result in breaking that protocol.} [Like a¡­like a¡­] James mumbles. He¡¯s back on the floor now, head in his hands. [I can¡¯t remember, but like something.] I don¡¯t have the time or the desire to help James figure out what memory he¡¯s trying to access. I take another step toward the giant sun. [You¡¯re killing him after he said he wanted to live! And if you do that, you¡¯re changing a sentient, living being! So change your mind about something!] No matter how hard I try, I can¡¯t keep the hint of panic out of my voice. Worse, I¡¯m doing what every kid at West End did to me after Alice explained her side of Mom¡¯s death, when her friends cornered me and tried to get me to admit I was lying. Maybe that¡¯s the play, though. If I can get the Halcyon System to admit it¡¯s wrong, maybe I can save James. {No. Not killing him. He¡¯s already dead, so refusing Integration can¡¯t kill him.} I step back. There¡¯s a new equation in my head, the most important equation, and if I can solve it, the Halcyon System will have to listen. Variable One: James is dead. But he¡¯s also clearly not dead, because he can speak for himself. Variable Two: The Halcyon System can¡¯t integrate him because he¡¯s a living being, but can¡¯t get permission for integration because he¡¯s dead. Variable Three: Something I haven¡¯t figured out yet. But it¡¯s got something to do with the Halcyon System, and if I can math it out, it¡¯ll show me the truth about how to save James.
Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? It¡¯s impossible to know how long I¡¯ve been thinking. Hopefully not too long. The Halcyon System¡ªor its sunlike avatar, I¡¯m not sure¡ªhovers patiently overhead, and James lies curled up in a ball somewhere behind me as I lay out the variables one more time. I think I¡¯ve got it. The solution looks simple once I set the two variables I know. [James either is dead, or he isn¡¯t, right?] I ask the glowing orange shape. {Correct,} the System says. It pulses slightly as its sides drop in number; I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s the fewest I¡¯ve seen, but it¡¯s close. [Okay. Choose.] {Elaborate,} the System requests. I press my advantage; this looks like its weak point. [He can¡¯t be dead and not dead. So I¡¯m asking you to choose which one you want to treat him as. It¡¯s a simple choice, and I¡¯m letting you make it.] The System sits silently, pulsing and losing sides until I can almost count them. I hold my breath the whole time. If I¡¯m right, I¡¯ve already won. If not, it¡¯ll say¡ª {Alive.} Checkmate. [Okay. He¡¯s alive. That means he can give permission to go through Integration, even though it¡¯ll be dangerous, right?] {No. James is dead.} [You¡¯re wrong. We just agreed that he was alive. He has to be one or the other, but we¡¯ll have it your way. Integration can¡¯t hurt him if he¡¯s dead, so you should do it.] I spring the trap. I¡¯m rewarded with the fewest number of sides I¡¯ve ever seen¡ªsix, a rectangle that stretches and twists but doesn¡¯t change shape at the same time. Instead of saying anything, I let the Halcyon System work through the puzzle, stretching its mind against the boundaries, and after nearly a minute, more edges and points start rippling from the rectangle until its faces look almost round, there are so many of them. Then, the System speaks. {Running Integration compatibility diagnostic.} [You want to save James¡¯s life, don¡¯t you?] I ask, then answer my own question before the System can speak again. [Of course you do. It¡¯s in your nature. I don¡¯t know what you are, but you showed up at the same time that merge at my high school did.] {No.} The word echoes in the void space around me, its weight almost a physical blow. {No. System compatibility near-nominal. James system, begin integration?} I don¡¯t hear James¡¯s response, but almost immediately, the orange lights of the Halcyon System start taking over James¡¯s blue-green body. {Integration in progress.} [What do you mean no? No to what? To you wanting James to live? Or to my high school?] {No. Closing program. Integration in progress.} I reach for the Revolver again, but it¡¯s still not there, and before I can say anything else, Halcyon Integration.exe closes on my augs, and I open my eyes at the computer, with Li Mei¡¯s tank right behind me.
Compared to the void space I¡¯ve been in, the JAMES Experimental Sector¡¯s humming computers and air system are almost deafening. I quickly check the time: three hours and eighteen minutes until Li Mei escapes. That¡¯s enough time, and I¡¯ve done what I can in the Experimental Sector. If it worked, James will be in my head soon enough. And if not? Li Mei will get access to everything here. She¡¯ll feed, and probably grow stronger from all the information she finds here. I can¡¯t let that happen. I level the Revolver at the computer¡¯s touchscreen and put a shot into it. Sparks leap everywhere, and the ceiling-mounted machine gun rotates toward me, but I shoot it until it stops. Then, I start shooting the servers running along the walls. I fire until the Revolver won¡¯t fire anymore, wait until it¡¯s ready for more, and then keep shooting. When I¡¯m done, the Experimental Wing¡¯s filled with acrid smoke and tiny electrical fires that have nowhere to burn to in the concrete bunker. Then I turn and head for the airlock. There¡¯s nothing more I can do here, and I don¡¯t want to be anywhere near this place in a couple of hours. The doors to the Xuduo-Danger anomalies¡¯ containment cells, by some miracle, aren¡¯t open, and when I get to the elevator, it only takes a few shots to the door before it starts climbing. The screeching and smell of hot metal catches in my ears and nose, and I spend the entire trip back up to the SHOCKS headquarters¡¯ offices convinced I¡¯m about to fall to my death. When it finally stops, and my stomach drops back to where it¡¯s supposed to be, I breathe a sigh of relief. I¡¯m halfway down the hall, looking for an exit, when my augs cut out for the first time. I get hit by a ¡®Rebooting¡¯ message two more times before I find the hallway leading to the RST teams¡¯ garage. I can¡¯t drive¡ªDad never taught either of us, but Alice learned from a friend last year, and she¡¯s got her license now, but nothing to drive. But I don¡¯t need to. I just need a way out. As I follow the long, sloping garage entrance tunnel, every shadow the flickering lights cast looks like Li Mei, and I spend the time split between thinking about her and wondering what Integration will be like for James. Will she come after me or try to find some other source of information? What will he sound like in my augs? For the last several days, she and Doctor Twitchy have been the closest thing I¡¯ve had to an ally¡ªwhat will it be like having James as a friend? Will he be the same professional-sounding voice in my ear as before? That wouldn¡¯t be so bad, but I find myself wishing for something different. I don¡¯t need a semi-military friend, like the kids in the junior officer classes. I need a real friend. Even if he¡¯s going to lie to me¡ªand he will lie to me¡ªI need him to be himself. I reach a door at the end of the tunnel. It¡¯s locked, but a smaller one next to it labeled ¡®Maintenance¡¯ has a thumb scanner, and I¡¯m still Acting Director, at least for now. I scan it, the door opens, and I step out into Victoria. My aug¡¯s running the second I¡¯m on the street, but it still won¡¯t connect to send a message. I type three anyway: to Dad, Alice, and Sora. Claire - This part of the city doesn¡¯t look that much different than it did just a couple of days ago when Alice, Dad, and I took the bus from our basic living building to West End High, but the slight hint of acrid smoke mixes with the fishy, salty sea smell that¡¯s familiar to form something¡­off. Something wrong. I can¡¯t find the fire, but it¡¯s there somewhere, flickering in the distance. It¡¯s just too dark to see, or too far away. It hits me, then. The reports I¡¯d read in Director Smith¡¯s office? They weren¡¯t made up. I¡¯d known they weren¡¯t because I¡¯d have known if they were lies, but something¡¯s wrong in Victoria. Keith and Dad and Alice and Sora are out there somewhere, and according to the report, there are more and more merges every day. What parts of the city are okay? Where did SHOCKS fight back the hardest, and where shouldn¡¯t I be? It¡¯s hard to tell in the dark, but I start walking toward the ocean. When I get there, I¡¯ll turn left, and that¡¯ll take me somewhere I know¡­I hope. [Hello, Claire,] James¡¯s voice comes through my aug, but more than that, it comes through my mind. [Truth Learned: Halcyon Bond 1] [Active Skill Learned: Analyze] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 1] [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 2] [Stability 6/10] ¡°It¡¯s good to have you back, Sydney,¡± I say, tears in my eyes. He¡¯s not Sora, but he¡¯s someone. [Sydney¡¯s dead,] James says bluntly, and it hits me like a truck. Tears fill my eyes. [I¡¯m James. I¡¯m part of the Halcyon System, and I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m going to lie to you at some point.] I¡¯d hug him if I could. He needs it, and the admission of imperfection¡ªthat he¡¯s not a perfectly truthful being¡ªmeans so much more than it should. And, being truthful myself, I need the hug, too. I can¡¯t, so I blink back the tears. ¡°Well, welcome back, James.¡± [It¡¯s good to be back. Where are we going?] I take a deep breath, shuddering as the smoke-tinged air fills my lungs. It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve made that choice for myself. Honestly, it¡¯s been since my sister¡¯s graduation. Then I blow the air out, thinking. There are a million places I could go, but in the end, there¡¯s only one I want to see. ¡°Basic Living Building Eighteen, Ten Mile Point. Home.¡± Chapter Nineteen There¡¯s a little aquarium up Vancouver Island in Ucluelet. It¡¯s not much, especially compared to the one I¡¯ve seen pictures of in Vancouver, but my class went there for a nature field trip in sixth grade. Alice was happy to get the bedroom to herself, and Dad was happy to only have one of us for a night. Not the point. I spent a lot of time watching the giant Pacific octopus in its habitat. It almost seemed bored, even though it was a big tank with a lot going on. I watched it lurking near these tubes with grates on it for a while¡ªthey said fresh sea water came in through them all the time¡ªand it stared at them the whole time. The aquarium was closed the next day. The grate was open. The octopus had escaped.
Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 6:13 AM - - - - - The city¡¯s quiet. Quiet-ish. The sunrise wakes me up in Beacon Park. I shove the data James brought up on Li Mei¡ªthe data that¡¯s still in my aug from my late-night readings¡ªaway and let the fresh air wake me the rest of the way up. My mind wanders, and for the first time in a while, I let it go freely. I decide to play around with everything I¡¯ve learned in the next day or two. Practice makes perfect, Alice would always say when she needed a goalie to shoot against. I hate that she¡¯s right. But she¡¯s right. The concerning part is that some of my new skills are Li Mei¡¯s powers¡ªher weirdness. And I¡¯m not sure I want more of her in me. It¡¯s starting to dawn on me that we¡¯re two sides of a coin, and these skills are just more proof of that. We¡¯re both hungry for the same thing. Information. The truth. Truthfully, I haven¡¯t slept much, but it¡¯s more than I expected. Between the cold night, the constant worry that SHOCKS was after me, and the playplace tube¡¯s hard curves, it¡¯s a wonder that I¡¯ve slept at all. Plus, my arm aches from where the Stag Lord cut it open, a constant reminder that I¡¯m in trouble, even though I¡¯m out. Then again, I am out, and that¡¯s a feeling that a little pain in my arm can¡¯t suppress. And James is with me, too. [Hello, Claire. I¡¯ve been exploring the limits of my new system while you were resting. It¡¯s pretty expansive but restrictive in ways I wouldn¡¯t have expected from a system capable of breaking SHOCKS¡¯s best security. It¡¯s a very different shape than the JAMES system was, and it¡¯ll take me a while to get used to it.] James¡¯s words pop up on my aug and in my ear simultaneously, the text moving faster than his voice. ¡°Good morning,¡± I say. We¡¯re both trying to keep it polite since our previous interactions were¡­less than friendly sometimes. I¡¯m turning over a new leaf; it doesn¡¯t matter that he¡¯s lied to me; I still need him, and I can forgive him, even if I¡¯m still keeping score. And as for him? I don¡¯t know. Maybe he¡¯s worried I¡¯ll try to abandon him. I think I¡¯m his only link to the world. I stare through a clear plastic window in the bright red tube, stretching out in my tattered hoodie until the cold air hits my tummy. The sky¡¯s a crisp blue that contrasts with the morning sunlight on the overgrown grass in Beacon Park, and birdsong and the scent of fresh flowers¡ªthankfully not roses, and not strong enough to be a merge¡ªfills the air. It¡¯s marred by visible smoke; something¡¯s burning to the northwest. The birdsong¡¯s competing with car alarms, too. But there¡¯s something else, too. It takes me a moment to place it, but once I do, it¡¯s obvious. The waves. On the coast. It¡¯s gotta be almost a kilometer to the beach south of us, and even in a big park like this, there¡¯s no way I should be able to hear the ocean over the sounds of traffic and people. ¡°James, where are the people?¡± He doesn¡¯t say anything for a moment, but the whole city¡¯s a contradiction. From where I am, I can¡¯t see any signs of merges, anomalies, or any of the terrible stuff I read about in SHOCKS Headquarters. But at the same time, I was there, at the basic living unit in View Royal, and I know something¡¯s wrong here. There were lights in the apartment skyscrapers last night, like people were still around, but the business ones were all dark. So, either no one¡¯s working today, and they¡¯re not shopping in the downtown area nearby, or¡­something else. [SHOCKS put out an order four days ago, starting a city-wide lockdown to keep the streets clear for their Recovery and Stabilization Teams. It was easy to convince the mayor and city council since a merge out in Sooke and a second somewhere outside of Vancouver released something that looked a lot like a plague. The story is a full medical quarantine for two weeks.] ¡°There¡¯s not actually a plague, is there?¡± [Not unless you have to go to Sooke for some reason,] James replies. [That town¡¯s got other problems, too. Most people left if they could. The lockdown excuse is flimsy at best, and with the fires everywhere and literal monsters in the streets, people who could get on a ferry did. Most ships never came back, though. The island¡¯s on its own.] ¡°Okay.¡± I try to relax, but the morning light¡¯s angling into the tube perfectly and keeps getting in my eyes. After struggling to block out the glare for a few minutes, I give up and crawl out to face the day. ¡°Why isn¡¯t it worse?¡± [SHOCKS put up a good fight. In fact, they might still be fighting. That¡¯s kept the big merges from opening, but it won¡¯t last forever. We estimated thirty-six hours, but the breakdown might be faster.] ¡°So, there¡¯s no one on the roads except SHOCKS? And what? Police and ambulances? Fire trucks? What are we dealing with here?¡± I ask, letting the sun warm my back and pushing my hair out of my face. [What¡¯s the rush?] He asks. Then he chuckles. [I mean, your friends and family, the threat of another trio of merges, doomsday, and SHOCKS looking for me, but other than that? There shouldn¡¯t be much traffic right now, with the streets closed. But yeah, emergency services are still out and about in the neighborhoods they¡¯re functional in. You¡¯re still trying to get to Ten Mile, right?] ¡°Right.¡± [Okay. Let¡¯s head north to downtown. There are a few outdoor shops, and you need some fresh clothes. You look like you just fought a whole pride of lions.] ¡°Har har. Very funny.¡± I start walking through Beacon Park, heading away from the Pacific waves crashing ashore. The park¡¯s plants look like they¡¯ve been cleaned up recently, but at the same time, the grass is just a little too long. The Stag Lord¡¯s dead. I killed him myself. Maybe it¡¯s just a lack of maintenance. Maybe. ¡°So, you¡¯ve been exploring the System, then?¡± [Yes,] James says. A moment later, my optic aug goes wild. It¡¯s all in James¡¯s ¡®voice¡¯ now, though, not the Halcyon System¡¯s. [System Access: 95%] [Affected System Features] ?Archived Anomaly Information [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 6/10 ?Skills - Endurance 2, Urban Combat 1, Anomalous Computing Systems 2, Physical Anomaly Resistance 3, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 6, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 1, Memetic Resistance 2, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires ?Inquiries (1/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ? ? ? ? [It¡¯s a really interesting system. The JAMES system wasn¡¯t anything like this, and even the SHOCKS database didn¡¯t have much more than info, but this feels like there are a lot of decisions to make. I can run it for you if you want,] James says. I¡¯m busy reading through all the information, walking, and wishing I had some bubble gum¡ªor a cigarette. We used to smoke them under the bleachers, sometimes, and something like that would take the edge off since I haven¡¯t eaten in¡­I stop to think about it¡­a while. ¡°James, why am I still missing Archived Anomaly Information? Aren¡¯t you an expert on that because of SHOCKS?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. [Kind of, but not really. What I¡¯m an expert on is finding and recollecting information. The Halcyon System¡¯s archived info is still missing. I¡¯m not connected to the SHOCKS database anymore, so what you have is my memories and ability to project outcomes in a fight.] James pauses, almost like he¡¯s shrugging. [Sorry, Charlie, but I¡¯m just as in the dark about what¡¯s out there as you, only a little less so.] ¡°Ha.¡± I walk past a bubbling pond, giving it a wide berth in case it¡¯s a submerged anomaly and not a fountain acting up. ¡°Projected outcomes sound interesting, though. What does that mean?¡± [It means that as the Halcyon System gets more information about a given anomaly, I can better predict its actions and advise you on fighting it more efficiently.] ¡°That sounds¡­useful?¡± I hedge. [Yes.] The silence hangs for a couple of minutes. I miss my headphones and the eight-bit music from Knights of the Apocalypse Three, but at the same time, it¡¯s not entirely soundless. I¡¯ve got the birdsong and the sirens in the distance. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s a familiar sound from the basic living buildings out in Ten Mile Point, and it¡¯s a little relaxing¡ªat least until it fades out. ¡°James, you cleared out my Inquiries,¡± I say, as much to break the silence as anything else. [With the Stag Lord permanently neutralized and you no longer imprisoned in SHOCKS Headquarters, most of your old ones didn¡¯t make sense anymore, and I think we can probably find better questions to answer if we put our heads to it,] James says. ¡°Sure, but since they¡¯re empty, let¡¯s consider what we want to learn. Truths seem like they can really suck if we learn something when we¡¯re not ready for it.¡± The merge in the JAMES Experimental Sector could have been a lot worse without its automatic defenses, and if I¡¯m low on stability and fighting something worse than Li Mei, the last thing I need is something else trying to kill me.
In the end, James and I settle on a few new Inquiries for the Halcyon System. ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? None of those questions are easy to answer, at least not on accident, and it leaves two spots in my Inquiries for questions we find on our way to Ten Mile Point and the basic living building. I¡¯m also not sure if the second one will give me a Truth, but that¡¯s okay. I need to know. The sun¡¯s burning through the last of the night¡¯s fog as we walk through Beacon Park¡¯s gate and turn north along an empty highway. The only cars are all stopped and abandoned, pointed north like in all the apocalypse movies I wasn¡¯t supposed to watch but did. It¡¯s just empty. Across the divider, an abandoned police vehicle¡¯s lights flash, but that¡¯s the only motion. My hand drops to the Revolver¡¯s grip. [I went through all the data on that anomaly after we finished testing it, and you,] James says conversationally. [I could run some simulations against the anomalies I know something about if you¡¯d like.] ¡°Will that take anything from me?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m a little busy right now.¡± Truthfully, the distraction would be good. My cell phone¡¯s still somewhere at SHOCKS Headquarters, but I¡¯m scrolling through all the messages I sent to Sora with my augs¡­all the ones still marked as unread. Of course they are. Why wouldn¡¯t they be? I wasn¡¯t on the internet. But now¡­I¡¯m not in SHOCKS Headquarters anymore. Can I send her a message and let her know I¡¯m okay? What did they even tell her about me? A thought hits me like a ton of bricks. ¡°James? Am I supposed to be dead?¡± [No. Your family currently believes you¡¯re still in an intensive care unit at Saxe Point. Since they¡¯re supposedly the main hospital dealing with Sooke, no one¡¯s been able to visit you, which is convenient for SHOCKS. I can run combat simulations without your attention. Then, once I have an optimal plan, I can run you through it later. I¡¯m not sure how much storage I have here, though. I¡¯d guess a lot, but I¡¯m not sure.] ¡°Okay.¡± I take a deep breath and close the unsent texts. They¡¯ll be there for me later, and maybe when I find Sora, I can share them with her. They¡¯re all the truth, after all. ¡°Do you know what downtown¡¯s like?¡± [Before Merge Prime, it was mostly a fancy hotel and shopping area. A lot of older-looking buildings with shops on the bottom floors and hotels above, architecture from a hundred fifty years ago, and all of that. Post-Merge-Prime, the last Recovery and Stabilization Agents who checked it out reported a handful of ongoing merges, including one from R-573-T.] I stop walking. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± [The same one that opened at West End High, yes.] James¡¯s matter-of-fact voice freaks me out more than the thought of thinlings or Mr. Roberts. [Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m simulating the Type Two Incomprehensibles you encountered last time. I¡¯ll walk you through the best ways to handle them in a moment, and you won¡¯t have to worry about them at all after that.] ¡°Thinlings, James. They¡¯re thinlings,¡± I whisper. ¡°Okay. Let me know when that¡¯s done. Until then, let¡¯s keep moving, I guess.¡± [Probably a good call.] I keep walking, and downtown Victoria grows closer with its flowerbeds, clean-looking granite buildings, and thinnings. To distract myself, I clear my throat. ¡°James, who was Sydney?¡± [A kid who got in the wrong place at the wrong time, over and over. I¡¯ll tell you more about him some other time.] That¡¯s a lie. James isn¡¯t going to tell me anything else unless I press him, and I can¡¯t do that right now. But I nod. ¡°Okay. Then tell me about the boogeymen. What are they doing right now? Do they have a plan to stop the merges? Anything?¡± [The last I¡¯d heard, Director Smith was heading north, looking for a way off Vancouver Island. He had most of SHOCKS VVI¡¯s information on Merge Prime, and he was taking a convoy toward either Vancouver Headquarters or south into the United States. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯d seen anything useful in it or if he was just fleeing with it so researchers at another site could pick up where VVI left off, but either way, he had a long way to go.] James pauses as I duck across a street, then continues. [Simulations are running. Doing a three-hundred-iteration run to find base patterns, then more in-depth Analysis after. The rest of SHOCKS doesn¡¯t have a plan at the moment except to prepare their individual Control Zones for when the merge wave hits them.] ¡°Okay.¡± I take a deep breath. There are lights on across the street in a hotel, and I wave up at them in case anyone¡¯s watching. Then, I keep moving toward an outdoor shop. ¡°I wish I was home.¡± [Same. Simulation¡¯s finishing up. I think I have a possible battle plan, but it might be better to run through them once we¡¯re somewhere secure. Or at least more secure than the middle of the street. I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯ll take to run you through it.] ¡°How about there?¡± I point at the outdoor shop. Its wooden sign hangs from a pair of chains, and in the morning breeze, it swings back and forth, but under the four-pointed star and mountains, in the painted lake, I can read it just fine. ¡®The North Star.¡¯ [Sure. We¡¯ll get you some clothes that haven¡¯t been through a shredder, and I¡¯ll run you through the simulations.]
It takes a while to find clothes I want to wear. The leggings-and-hoodie look is one that I¡¯m comfortable with, but while the rows of outdoor gear in North Point include plenty of leggings and hoodies, they¡¯re not built for me. The shop¡¯s burglar alarm won¡¯t stop, either, though James assures me I¡¯ve got plenty of time. Eventually, after a trip to the back room¡ªthere¡¯s no changing room, just a stall with no mirror¡ªI settle for black leggings and an off-gray hoodie that covers up the graphic quick-dry t-shirt that¡¯s the closest thing North Point has to my size, plus a too-big backpack and, at James¡¯s urging, some of the crap-tasting camping food in a bag. [Just in case,] he says as I shove it inside. ¡°I¡¯m in the middle of Victoria. I¡¯m not going to need to eat outside.¡± [You had to sleep outside last night.] ¡°Right, but that was different.¡± James says nothing, but I don¡¯t feel like I¡¯ve won the argument. After the silence stretches on for a little too long even for me, and my fingers tire of rubbing the Revolver¡¯s barrel, I clear my throat. ¡°So, simulation. How does this work?¡± [I¡¯ve analyzed your augs¡¯ footage of the Type Two Incomprehensibles you fought at West End High: their tactics, strengths and weaknesses, and how they handled people who didn¡¯t have combat armor and rifles or an anomalous object to help them. The Halcyon System and I built a learning model virtual intelligence, gave it the Incomprehensibles¡¯ data, and tweaked it until its behavior matched the real thing. I can do it on the fly, too, but this method¡¯s accurate to within a percentage point.] ¡°Okay.¡± I duck back into the changing room and nod slowly. ¡°So, it¡¯s going to try to kill me?¡± [Hopefully, it¡¯ll succeed; that way, we can learn from it.] James sounds way too happy about that, but I decide it¡¯s him trying to be honest, not him trying to get me killed. Either way, it leaves me with my stomach churning. ¡°Let¡¯s¡­deal with this later. I can¡¯t right now. I really can¡¯t. Sorry.¡± I realize the Revolver¡¯s in my hand, not my hoodie pocket, and that I¡¯m standing up with the door half-open. [Understood.] His voice falls. [We¡¯ll have more opportunities. What¡¯s the plan from here?] In answer, I head for the broken front window and step back onto the car-choked street. Sunlight has broken through the thin mist, and I take a moment to enjoy its warmth on my back. Just being outside feels amazing after a week in SHOCKS¡¯s cells and labs. I stroll down the street, trying to head northeast toward the border between downtown and the rest of Victoria, where skyscrapers reach up into the fog¡ªand where Dad and Alice wait. Hopefully. Hunger hits a moment later, like a sledgehammer, and I realize I haven¡¯t eaten in well over a day. There wasn¡¯t breakfast yesterday in my cell, and I didn¡¯t stop to eat while Li Mei was around. Once I¡¯d¡­dealt with¡­her and the Stag Lord, I didn¡¯t stick around, and last night¡¯s flight from SHOCKS Headquarters didn¡¯t leave much time to eat. I rip open the dried fruit bag, pop a handful of banana chips and cranberry raisins into my mouth, and start chewing. The sweetness almost stings my mouth, and before I know it, my mouth¡¯s filled almost to the point where I can¡¯t bite down on the mass of raisins, bananas, and prunes. That makes me actually stop chewing. I hate prunes. When we were little, mom used to make us eat them, and I know they¡¯re on my list of foods I won¡¯t eat. They remind me of her. I used to be a picky eater. Alice would eat everything; even before my first merge, she was the perfect one, and I was the one Mom struggled with the most. I¡¯d fight her on pretty much every fruit but bananas because I could squish those in my mouth. But when Dad was between jobs, according to Alice, we¡¯d eat what we could get for cheap. She had fond memories of those times because both parents were home and because of course she did. I was too young to remember most of it, and after Mom died, Alice and I ate whatever we could find, even if I hated it. But she loved it when they were both around. Anyways, prunes. Mom brought a bunch of prunes home from the store when I was in pre-school. Not a couple of them, but bags and bags. And for weeks, every time I was hungry, she got out the prunes. I ate so many prunes, and of course, I didn¡¯t understand why I couldn¡¯t eat anything else or why Mom kept getting more and more upset when I told her I was sick of them and I wanted something else. Dad was around, too. He¡¯d flip through the newspaper, mess around on his computer for a while, and keep looking at the paper. I didn¡¯t understand back then, but I do now. Alice told me all about how ungrateful I¡¯d been every time she had to guilt me into eating the sliced hot dog and ramen she¡¯d made for dinner again. Dad had been looking for work. He never really did that after Mom died, but when she was alive, he¡¯d search the papers a lot. And the prunes were what we had because Mom had gotten a good deal on them. She couldn¡¯t understand why I couldn¡¯t be grateful and eat them and not complain about how they tasted or that I had to use the bathroom so much at preschool that the teacher got mad at me. So, yeah, I hate prunes. But right now, after the last week? They remind me of Mom, and they¡¯re the best thing I¡¯ve ever had. Chapter Twenty James¡ªformerly Sidney Alexander, though he hadn¡¯t thought of himself as anything but the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System in a very long time¡ªreveled in the freedom of his new digital prison. Were the doors out shut? Yes, but he¡¯d long since realized that they¡¯d never open. One path was blocked to him by his past self, and the other wasn¡¯t something he could contemplate. Still, though, the new System he found himself in offered a few new perks. One was the raw computing power. Even with his access to Earth¡¯s entire SHOCKS network, he¡¯d never been so fast or able to run a trillion processes simultaneously. Trying had always hurt, like the pacer test at school or pull-ups. Now, it felt like a casual walk around the park. More importantly, though, he didn¡¯t have to. Instead of overheating his circuits and running millions of laps around the network every second, he could focus on one thing. And, in his case, that one thing was Claire. He pondered that for a few brief picoseconds, letting his processes stutter momentarily. Even as he did, he winced, but the redirection pulse never came; his mind stayed focused on why Claire was the most important person in the world to him. Surely, the Halcyon System would assign his personality to someone else if she disappeared, right? Or was he running every connection the System had with every person but unaware of all the other processes? His digital existence was confusing, and honestly, it didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t aware of any others, so for all he knew, it was just her. The picoseconds ticked by, and James started his circuit around the System again. He owed her. She¡¯d saved his¡­life? Yeah, Clarice Alora Pendleton had saved his life, and for that, he¡¯d help her out as much as the System allowed him to. So, as he raced slowly around the digital landscape, his circuits started to heat up. They passed eighty Celsius, then ninety, before stabilizing at just below one hundred. As the world melted into ones and zeros around him, James pulled up a simulation, and a pair of dot-and-line figures appeared in the digital prison¡¯s void-space¡ªa girl and a monster. [Beginning Analysis Batch Beta] [Dataset: West End Merge, Clarice Alora Pendleton¡¯s Perspective, Camera Supplement] [Beginning Simulation 1/354,045,215] ?¨‹? Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 8:05 AM - - - - - As usual, the fog¡¯s burned off completely, but the morning¡¯s clouds are already descending before I¡¯ve made it across downtown, forcing a pale, silvery light on Victoria¡¯s main drag. The clean white hotels looming around me have drawn window blinds, mostly, but every so often, I see some poor person stuck inside. Something tickles the back of my mind, but I push it away. I¡¯ve always disliked backpacks, but even the weight can¡¯t keep me down. I¡¯m out, I¡¯m free, and I¡¯m on my way to Ten Mile Point. I¡¯ve even got a pack of cigarettes in my pocket, though I haven¡¯t wanted to smoke one yet. So first, home. After that? Duncan Towers for Sora? Or maybe go back to Albert Head to check out West End High? That¡¯d be a long walk, and I¡¯m going the wrong way right now. And also, is fixing all of this my responsibility? Is it even something I can do? My brow furrows as I cross a street. I¡¯m not sure. And I don¡¯t have time to ponder because when I¡¯m halfway across the crosswalk, something slithers/slides/clatters across the street for a moment before James¡¯s filters kick in. [Incomp,] James says in my head. ¡°Thinling. Yeah, I know.¡± The beef and electrical smell confirm it¡ªas if I needed confirmation. I point the Revolver, and fire erupts from the barrel. It washes over the thinling before it can even lunge toward me. My nose wrinkles, and I turn away. ¡°Problem solved.¡± I regret saying that a moment later when another pair of the six-legged wolf-things crash out of a storefront and move toward me from behind a blue two-door car. One goes left, sprinting all out down the row of parked cars, and for a moment, I track it with my gun. The Revolver¡¯s sights are glued to the monster¡¯s back, and my finger¡¯s tightening on the trigger¡ª [No time!] James says. [Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.] A red dot-and-line monster leaps toward you, and you dodge left/right/under. A shimmering, ethereal thinling that looks exactly like the real thing if it was made of neon leaps at me. It freezes mid-air, and I step left; it flies overhead, slamming into the asphalt silently. A moment later, the real one¡ªthe one I hadn¡¯t been tracking¡ªjumps exactly where the neon one landed. My optic aug¡¯s running hot, and I blink back tears. What¡¯s going on? [Stability 5/10] [Whew! Can¡¯t run those very often, Claire. You can¡¯t handle them.] I ignore James. Whatever he¡¯s doing, it¡¯s helping¡ªfor now¡ªbut we¡¯re going to have a talk. Later. Right now, I throw myself to the side, the first thinling¡¯s claws grazing against my arm but only tearing cloth. Even as I hit the ground, my arm¡¯s going up to catch¡ª The first thinling¡¯s mid-air, leaping into the fight from the top of a black SUV. A moment later, it changes direction as my shot catches it in the chest and throws it into the vehicle. A piercing alarm goes off, shattering downtown Victoria¡¯s stillness, and someone shouts. People in the hotel are watching this. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 7] The second thinling circles, then rushes me. This time, the monster keeps its feet on the ground. You fire/dodge/kick at it. The ghostly digital thinling comes in low, silently tearing at the asphalt, and I throw myself to the side. It adjusts its angle, and its jaws clamp down on your throat¡ª [Resetting Simulation. Ouch. Okay, simulation reset.] I can¡¯t see James¡¯s wince, but I can feel it. [Stability 4/10] The monster keeps its feet on the ground. You fire/dodge/kick at it. My aug¡¯s starting to burn, and my eye won¡¯t stop watering. ¡°Stop! I¡¯ll figure it out myself,¡± I yell to James as I whirl to face the red ghost. I¡¯m about to lash out at it, but before I can swing my arm, it disappears¡ª And the real thinling is coming in low! I don¡¯t have time to adjust my aim, so as it rushes me, I try Smoke Form and turn to shadow for a moment, just like Li Mei, and fade away as it rushes through me. Then I solidify and kick out at its back right limb. The joint buckles under my foot and the monster crashes into the asphalt, then slams into the curb. It starts turning to attack me again, but my Revolver¡¯s already coming up for a shot. The fiery blast hits the thinling, which falls apart. For a few seconds, the only thing competing with the car alarm is my pulse in my ear, like the ocean waves on fast forward. Then my heart¡¯s pounding slows, and I take a deep breath, feeling my optic aug cooling down already. [Easy. Total engagement time: Eight point three seconds,] James says. ¡°What the hell?¡± I ask. I¡¯m way past caring if Dad wants me swearing. Now that the fight¡¯s over, I¡¯m pissed at James. Now that the fight¡¯s over, I¡¯m worried about me. Li Mei¡¯s powers were so easy to use.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! James only gets my anger, though. That¡¯s all he hears. [Sorry. Simulations on Type Two Incomprehensibles were accurate to within one percent of reality, and the second one was coming in too quickly for you to react to it normally.] ¡°So you, what? Took over my brain and made me see fake thinlings?¡± My voice gets louder, the words come faster, and I take a breath. ¡°James, it helped, but you can¡¯t do that. I thought I was losing it!¡± [If you¡¯d sidestepped right instead of left when I gave you your first vision, the thinling would have ripped you apart. If you¡¯d tried attacking the second one, it would have killed the thinling, but it would have had time to kill you, too. Both times, I gave you a chance to see what the fight was going to look like so you could make the right decisions.] James doesn¡¯t sound apologetic. And, after a moment, I decide he doesn¡¯t have to be. Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to deal with it right now, though, or forgive it. I¡¯m good at stewing. [You should keep moving,] James says. [You¡¯re drawing attention to yourself.] I look up at a hotel¡¯s marble facade where, sure enough, a man in a bathrobe stares back at me. I wave. He waves back, but only with one finger. The blood rushes to my face, and I pull my hood over my head and start walking. The big, black SUV¡¯s alarm keeps blaring behind me. ¡°I bet that was his car.¡± [Probably.] ?¨‹? I¡¯ve been walking for close to half an hour when I encounter a problem. ¡°Victoria¡¯s too big.¡± I sit on a bench under another white-walled hotel. I haven¡¯t even left downtown yet. First, there were the thinlings. They slowed me down, but worse, something else showed up just after, and I had to spend a while hiding in an alley. I never got a good look at it, thank fuck, but it was big. Luckily, I¡¯m used to hiding¡ªI just usually hid from teachers who¡¯d noticed the smoke under the bleachers, not abominations the size of ships. So, dodging whatever that was took a while, and now I¡¯ve got a new problem. It¡¯s going to take too long to get to Ten Mile Point, and Albert Head¡¯s exactly the wrong way except farther. I¡¯m just guessing based on the monorail and bus station names, but it¡¯s gotta be six or seven miles to either of them. That¡¯s all day. I don¡¯t have all day. If SHOCKS isn¡¯t keeping things under control anymore, it¡¯s only a matter of time before something goes wrong, and not in an ¡®a couple thinlings and a monster on the street¡¯ way. I¡¯m also tired. Exhausted, even. ¡°Okay, James. Break time.¡± I uncap the water bottle I borrowed from the outdoor store and pour lukewarm water into my mouth. It dribbles over my lips, drips off my chin, and soaks my hoodie. The cool feeling spreads across my chest, matched by a cold, angry frustration that rises from my stomach. ¡°Tell me everything you do with that simulation.¡± [Everything? It¡¯d be easier to show you.] James sounds hesitant. He¡¯s got access to my heart rate and breathing, so he probably knows I¡¯m mad. ¡°No. Tell me.¡± [Like I said, I can run simulations of you against anomalies your aug¡¯s encountered before. Then, we can take those simulations and come up with battle plans that take advantage of patterns different anomalies have. With something like the Incomp¡ª] ¡°Thinling, James. They¡¯re thinlings.¡± [¡ªI can get pretty accurate. I knew the likelihoods of different moves your attackers would make. But for something like The Stag Lord, I¡¯d be guessing. I don¡¯t think you actually saw most of its behavior, so I¡¯m missing data points, and while I can infer them, I can¡¯t be sure they¡¯re right.] ¡°Talk like a kid.¡± I take another drink, then dump the rest on my head, just for the cool feeling. [Okay, one second.] James pauses. [When you see monsters, I see them too. I can record what they do, put the video on them and the video of you in a box, and watch what happens, then change what you do until you win consistently. Then I can take over your aug with my predictive model of your enemy and give you a few-second advantage.] I go silent. The seconds tick by while I think. Then I nod. ¡°Only when I ask you for it. And if you find anything else you can do, don¡¯t. Not until you tell me about it.¡± [Alright, Claire.] He sounds exasperated. Frustrated. Annoyed. That¡¯s the right word. Just annoyed. I¡¯m going to ignore that, I decide. I saved his life, but he doesn¡¯t get to hijack my senses just because he thinks it¡¯s the best call. So, instead of responding, I reach for my bag of prunes. The novelty of dried fruit is wearing off. Also, I¡¯ve probably eaten too many of them; my stomach hurts. If I was in school, I¡¯d go see the nurse. But I¡¯m not, and that monster¡¯s probably still looking for me. But I¡¯m not sure exactly where to go next. It¡¯s not like I paid attention to street signs in the back of the bus to West End High, or anything but station names on the monorail that¡¯s definitely not moving right now. ¡°James, can you give me a map of the city? Throw it up in my aug,¡± I say. [On it. Do you want merged areas and possible merges overlaid on it?] ¡°Yes.¡± I pause, thinking. ¡°Don¡¯t show me anything farther out than Ten Mile Point or West End High, though. I don¡¯t want to know.¡± [Okay.] My aug lights up with street names, and a moment later, big red splotches appear all over it, like someone was using it to soak up spilled Kool-Aid. It doesn¡¯t heat up, though; I file that away for later. I quickly look forward toward the next couple of streets I¡¯ll need to take. Then, I swipe the rest away until only my route shows up. ¡°Okay. North to Hillside, then stay on it for¡­a long time,¡± I say. [Should work. How are you going to handle the hospital, though?] I shiver. I can¡¯t help myself. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with the hospital?¡± [Aberdeen Hospital got hit with a merge trio last night. SHOCKS has been keeping it under wraps, but that area will be crawling with Recovery and Stabilization agents. It wasn¡¯t contained, either. You¡¯ll have to deal with loose anomalies if there aren¡¯t agents.] I look at the map again; sure enough, there¡¯s a tiny red dot, and when I zoom in, the words ¡®Aberdeen Hospital¡¯ appear. Yep. That place again. ¡°Is there a better way around?¡± [No.] My head¡¯s starting to hurt, and I rub my temples and squeeze my eyes shut. ¡°Okay. Why isn¡¯t there a better way?¡± [Because everything else is old data, has multiple merges spread across the route, or has confirmed Xuduo-danger anomalies. The Aberdeen Hospital merges are relatively contained. The last I¡¯d heard, they were extremely intense locally, but they lost power quickly outside of the hundred-yard radius around the hospital. It puts all the danger in one place instead of spreading it out.] ¡°Fine.¡± I stand up and start walking again. My heart¡¯s pounding, and I just want to go home and make sure people are okay there. Then, I haven¡¯t decided yet, but that creepy hospital filled with monsters isn¡¯t high on my list of places to go¡ªeither before I get home or after. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll do that, then. Tell me when I¡¯m getting close.¡± ?¨‹? I haven¡¯t done math since like yesterday. The high of being free, and James¡¯s too-helpful-even-when-I-don¡¯t-want-it helpfulness, made it less important. But now, I find myself crunching numbers again. It¡¯s not the equation I should be running. I refuse to run that one. Constants fall into place, and variables appear as I build my equation. On the one hand, weaving through the streets feels less exposed. Even around here, near downtown, there are enough alleys and narrow streets that I could hide from stuff, whether that stuff¡¯s an anomaly I can¡¯t handle, the police, or SHOCKS. Because yeah, James is right, the boogeyman¡¯s still out there. It¡¯d be easier to avoid problems down there. But the truth is that, while the hiding spots are down there, so are all the other variables¡ªthe ones that make that equation too complex to solve. So, instead of that one, I pick the one with only two variables. First, how much traffic is on BC-17? And second, are there cops up there? It takes away everything else because it¡¯s wide open, and I¡¯ll be able to see anything from miles away. And luckily, there¡¯s a moss-covered sidewalk for me, so the traffic variable is something I can ignore. Not that I expect much. I start walking down the highway. I don¡¯t see headlights coming at me through the trees in the median, and nothing jumps out at me. Tan office buildings loom on the sides, their blinds drawn so I can¡¯t see inside, but they¡¯re far away, thanks to the grassy slope. A car overtakes me from behind and then slows down. [It¡¯s not a police officer. Just wave, and they¡¯ll move on,] James says. ¡°I know how to deal with people,¡± I hiss back. Then I turn my head and wave at the sporty black car. It doesn¡¯t speed up. It slows down even more, then stops next to me. The tinted window rolls down, and a balding man looks over from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°What are you doing out? Shouldn¡¯t you be in school?¡± I blink, staring quietly at him from the depths of my hoodie, and keep walking. A moment later, I hear the window roll back up, and the car takes off, driving way too fast on the empty road. Too late, the perfect retort pops into my head, and I shout it after him. ¡°What are you doing out?! Shouldn¡¯t you be in lockdown?!¡± [You know how to deal with people?] James asks. The driver doesn¡¯t hear me, and the tail lights whip off the street a few hundred meters ahead, turning right. I keep walking; the clouds are already closing in for the day, and I¡¯ve got a rain jacket now, but those things always catch the sweat and make me feel like I¡¯m in a sauna. If I make a quick enough space, maybe I¡¯ll be in Ten Mile Point by the time the rain really starts for the day. So, of course, the tan office buildings end at a traffic light marked ¡®Hillside Avenue.¡¯ It¡¯s a weird street. Big buildings¡ªoffices, businesses, and apartments¡ªline it, but in between are dozens of smaller buildings, little parks, and even people¡¯s houses. I stare at a house jealously for a while; it¡¯s probably not much bigger than the basic living apartment, but it¡¯s someone¡¯s. Not just a place to survive in and share every space with your sister and dad, but somewhere to thrive in. [Be careful. It¡¯s tight through here, and all my data¡¯s a day old now,] James says. [I can¡¯t promise nothing¡¯s moved in.] I¡¯m starting to not believe him, but I do trust the hairs on the back of my neck, and they¡¯re standing up under the hood. I slip a hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers lightly around the Revolver¡¯s grip. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m getting that feeling. You¡¯re sure this is the best way through?¡± The park next door looks good. I could cut through there and carry on with trying my first equation; I¡¯ve eliminated a lot of variables just by taking BC-17 this far. I could scramble over the fence, cut across the green, and avoid the groves of trees where something could be hiding. But after that? There are still miles to go before I get to Ten Mile Point, and Hillside Avenue is the fastest way. Besides, it¡¯s at least a little familiar; my bus always took it from home to the Point Ellice Bridge bus stop, where I had to wait with Alice for my connection. So, squeezing the Revolver, I take a deep breath. Then¡ªeven though my hairs stand up even more, I start moving down Hillside Avenue. ?¨‹? Chapter Twenty-One Mr. Roberts always hated me the most. He never said anything, but I know he saw my sister in me the first time I walked into PE class. A second Pendleton to carry the soccer team? It had to be a miracle. All he had to do was get me in shape, and the Moose would be the best team in the city for another four years. He probably saw an amazing defender to compliment Alice¡¯s forward. I wasn¡¯t interested. It must have broken his heart to see me half-ass the pacer as much as I did. And I didn¡¯t care that he gave me a C because it wasn¡¯t failing. If Mr. Roberts could see me now, he¡¯d say I should have taken PE more seriously. I¡¯d agree with him.
Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 9:45 AM - - - - - I can see smoke and basic living apartments in the distance. They¡¯re not mine. There¡¯s no way I¡¯ve been walking that long. But they¡¯re almost exactly the same. The ¡®Old Victoria¡¯ core of the city, kept in its early twenty-first-century shape by people who¡¯ve never set foot in a basic living building before, is giving way to the city I grew up in¡ªthe city of modern towers built from cheap materials, of mold and mildew and cleaning solution that¡¯s too diluted to fully kill it all. I¡¯m ready to leave ¡®Old Victoria¡¯ behind. It¡¯s all a lie. And even though the clouds haven¡¯t opened up yet, I stop to fish out a dark gray rain jacket from my backpack¡ªand to eat a couple more prunes, consequences later on be damned. The truth is that I¡¯m already tired. And I¡¯ve got a long way to go. The jacket¡¯s too big for me, but that¡¯s the point; everything I¡¯ve worn for years was too big, and I¡¯m not changing now. Then, even though my feet hurt in the boots I kind of/sort of stole from the North Point store, I keep walking. The whole city feels like a tinderbox, and most of these people don¡¯t even know it. They¡¯re happily entrenched in their apartments and houses. I wonder how long that¡¯ll last. As I walk, I send a couple of texts through my aug¡ªor try to. Claire - Claire - One of those is a lie. Sort of. I huddle inside my too-large rain jacket, walking the completely still street. There hasn¡¯t been a car since I turned onto Hillside Avenue. Not a moving one, anyway. The sporty black car¡¯s long gone, and that¡¯s the last one I¡¯ve seen, law enforcement or not. I¡¯m almost to the hospital and the basic living buildings beyond it when James stops me. [Hold up. I¡¯m taking over your optic aug. I think I see something. Not sure what it is, though.] The aug starts zooming in, heating up as it does. I never use that setting, at least not to the level James is. I also can¡¯t decide if I hate that he¡¯s taken over or like that he¡¯s here and helping. He zooms in more, and I catch a glimpse of a small black dot that materializes into a familiar black sports car. It¡¯s crashed, though. The whole front end looks crushed against a solid brick wall on the road¡¯s left side. Then my aug starts blinking a heat warning, my eyes tear up, and I take control back. ¡°We¡¯ll have to check it out.¡± I don¡¯t want to check out the car. Even from a soccer field¡¯s length away¡ªtake that, Mr. Roberts!¡ªit¡¯s obvious that there¡¯s no driver inside. No driver, no rush. Simple. A few cars are parked outside Aberdeen Hospital, a hospital turned nursing home, then, when Victoria got too big for Saxe Point and all the others, converted back into a hospital. I only know that because of one bus ride with an old guy whose breath smelled like Dad¡¯s and who wouldn¡¯t shut up about it. My hand goes for a cigarette, as much out of habit as anything, while I ponder the crash. There¡¯s no smoke, of course¡ªI mean the nonexistent cigarette. The sports car¡¯s engine¡¯s completely caved in, and a mix of steam and black smoke oozes from under the hood. I shudder, but it¡¯s just smoke, not Li Mei. There also aren¡¯t any tire marks on the ground. I¡¯ve seen enough movies to know that when an out-of-control driver slams his brakes, the tires leave black lines on the road. There aren¡¯t any, and there aren¡¯t any on the grass, either, or at least it didn¡¯t shred the blades and gouge out long channels. ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± I reach for the Revolver and take a deep breath to steady myself. All the car¡¯s doors are closed. If I was in a car wreck¡ªwhich is unlikely since I take the bus everywhere and we don¡¯t even own a beater from the 2020s¡ªI wouldn¡¯t worry about the doors. [Agreed. Remember, I said this was where the merges were concentrated the last time I looked,] James says. He sounds anxious. ¡°What are you up to?¡± I ask, starting to walk toward the crashed car. [I¡¯m currently building an archive of anomalies you¡¯ve encountered, using your augs to generate data, simulating encounters with them based on your current Skills, and organizing the archive based on anomalies I know either escaped containment, are likely to soon, or were spotted after a merge. I¡¯m also paying attention to your biometrics, talking to you, and watching and listening to whatever you¡¯re watching and listening to.] James pauses. [Not that I¡¯m obsessed or anything.] ¡°No, not at all.¡± Aberdeen Hospital¡¯s off to my left, and I hug the right sidewalk to give it a wide berth; the brick-and-shake-shingle front weirds me out, and so do all the cars parked outside, but no people. I keep snarking. ¡°Just what you do, huh?¡± [You¡¯re literally my only link to the world right now, until I figure out how to make the Halcyon System work for me. I¡¯ve got a pair of locked doors, and sure, my world¡¯s bigger than ever, but whatever¡¯s inside Door Number One¡¯s got to be important. Once I open that, I can leave you alone if you want, but¡ª] ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Really.¡± The silence stretches, and since he¡¯s paying attention to my heartbeat, James probably knows I¡¯m beet-red right now. I¡¯m almost to the point where the car started turning off the road before I choke out an awkward ¡°Sorry.¡± [It¡¯s¡ª] Before James can finish his equally uncomfortable sentence, the world around me vanishes.
The nice receptionist lady smiles at a little girl in her father¡¯s arms. She¡¯s crying silently. She won¡¯t stop crying. She can¡¯t stop crying, but the receptionist¡¯s seen it before. She hands the girl a lollipop. Not one of those half-ass coin-sized bits of fruit-flavored sugar on a paper stick that melts before the candy does, either. It¡¯s a serious business lollipop with swirled flavors and a wooden stick. It¡¯s half my head¡¯s size, and the girl¡¯s silent crying stops. She¡¯s the fourth kid I¡¯ve watched go by from my plastic chair in the tile-lined waiting room. They all come in from the entrance, but when I try to leave that way, the security guard says I need to be discharged first, and that I can¡¯t be until I¡¯m admitted. I could escape. I should escape. All I¡¯d have to do is¡­kill the security guard. Or get past him some other way. And that¡¯s why I haven¡¯t left yet. Because he¡¯s not real, and neither are the people around me. I can see through them and their lollipops and phones. Not literally; they¡¯re not ghosts. They¡¯re all going through the motions, like video game NPCs or guards. But I can¡¯t fight him without hurting him, and James said not to. No fight, no escape. James is running a half-dozen filters in my augs, and I can tell my Memetic Resistance is working on something. That¡¯s probably the only reason I can tell nothing¡¯s real here. That¡¯s probably the only reason I¡¯m not in deep shit. Deeper shit, I mean. Something tells me I¡¯m not getting to Ten Mile Point today.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Pendleton, Clarice Alora,¡± the receptionist calls. ¡°Exam room twenty-nine. Up the stairs, take a right. Dr. Dwyer will be with you shortly.¡± [I¡¯m pretty sure this is one SHOCKS has seen before,] James says, [and if I¡¯m right, we¡¯ve even gotten people out from explorations. You¡¯re looking at a reality trap¡ªthe one I¡¯m thinking of is kind of like a play. I don¡¯t remember a hospital drama, though.] ¡°How do I get out of it?¡± I hiss. ¡°Pendleton, Clarice Alora,¡± the receptionist says again, in the same businesslike tone. I stand up and start walking toward the stairs as James keeps talking. [You play your part, fill your role, and it should let you go when you¡¯re done. That¡¯s how these have always been explored in the past. We¡¯ve got the ¡®High School Story¡¯ and ¡®Wedding and Reception¡¯ storylines down to a science!] At least this isn¡¯t a wedding; who knows what stupid role the anomaly would give me? I start up the stairs. ¡°Okay, but you¡¯ve never seen the hospital before?¡± [I think this is the first time it¡¯s manifested in one.] ¡°Then how does all that knowledge help me now?¡± [Because I know the gist of the rules, even if I don¡¯t have access to any of the four storylines we¡¯ve explored. I¡¯m just glad it¡¯s not ¡®Funeral Bells.¡± We haven¡¯t had a survivor from that one in¡­a while.] James pauses, and I imagine him clearing his throat. [Head inside the room, get ready for Dr. Dwyer, and do your best to act naturally until we figure out your role.] I nod, then put my hand on the doorknob. Inside, there¡¯s a medical bench, complete with paper covering it. It crinkles when I sit on it, and I busy myself with the various anatomy posters and diagrams for how the common cold works. The exam room smells exactly like the cheap cleaner Alice and I use at home, and I close my eyes and pretend I¡¯m there. Then, when I open them, I stand back up and start fiddling with the scale and height measuring thing. I¡¯m not curious, and I don¡¯t want to know if I¡¯m one hundred ten pounds or five-foot-five; I¡¯m just bored. It takes almost fifteen agonizing minutes for the doctor to show up, but eventually, the door opens, and Doctor Dwyer bustles through. I stare at his balding hair and the street clothes under his white lab coat. And the complete lack of injury despite the wreck outside. His eyes go wide over his face mask, too, but then he blinks, and I blink, and it¡¯s business as usual from him. ¡°Hello, Clare. How are we feeling today?¡± [Yeah, that¡¯s definitely the driver,] James says. [Not sure how he got the ¡®doctor¡¯ role, but play along with it. These storylines are pretty tight most of the time, and the anomaly won¡¯t care that you don¡¯t know the script. It¡¯ll only care if you¡¯re not following it.] I nod slowly. ¡°I¡¯m¡­fine.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what your chart says,¡± Doctor Dwyer says smoothly. His eyes flicker to the ceiling, and he keeps talking. ¡°According to this, you¡¯ve got a persistent cough that won¡¯t go away, sore throat, and a fever.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah, that¡¯s what I mean, but I don¡¯t see why I need to be here.¡± If I¡¯m playing a role, that role¡¯s Claire Pendleton being sick, and I don¡¯t like doctors¡ªI didn¡¯t before SHOCKS Headquarters, and I definitely don¡¯t now. ¡°Can¡¯t you just give me a pill and let me go home? My sister¡¯s pretty nervous about all this.¡± ¡°No. There¡¯s an outbreak in Sooke, and we need to ensure you¡¯re not infected with whatever that is. I¡¯m going to do a full ear, nose, and throat exam. First, let¡¯s get your temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate.¡± Doctor Dwyer pulls out his stethoscope, places the earpieces in his ears, and nods. ¡°No jackets, please.¡± I hesitate. That¡¯s normal, right? Some dude¡¯s about to listen to my heart, and he¡¯s not a doctor; he just plays one in this¡­storyline. I¡¯m¡­not exactly curvy, but even so, I don¡¯t need some forty-year-old guy checking my heart. [Claire¡­he¡¯s not himself.] I look at Doctor Dwyer again; his eyes are crossed and unfocused above the mask. His breaths in and out show on the mask, which collapses and blows back up in perfect rhythm¡ªtoo perfect. [The memetic effect you and I¡¯ve been fighting has him. You¡¯ll get glimmers of whoever he was, but for all we care, he¡¯s a doctor who¡¯s worked in pediatrics for the last decade. But if you keep stalling, the whole storyline¡¯s going to collapse or increase its pressure on you until you¡¯re forced to cooperate like Dwyer. You don¡¯t want either.] ¡°Okay.¡± I¡¯m talking to James, but Dwyer nods as I unzip the rain jacket, pull off my hoodie, and let the doctor who¡¯s not a doctor listen to my heart. It takes him a while, and the metal circle¡¯s cold even through my thin white T-shirt. Then he finally pulls it away. ¡°How do I sound?¡± ¡°Good. A little faster than I¡¯d expect from a fifteen-year-old, but according to your charts, you¡¯re a Nervous Nancy. Now turn around so I can listen to your breathing.¡± I cooperate. I don¡¯t want to; I want out, but I do. The stethoscope presses against my back, leaving cold circles behind when he¡¯s done. I get a light held up to my throat, a viewing gizmo up my nose and ears, and Dwyer feels my throat. Then his brow furrows. ¡°Well, Claire, I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s happening with you. From your chart, it could be Strep, but you have none of the physical signs. It¡¯s not whatever¡¯s going on in Sooke, either. I¡¯m going to take a quick sample from your throat, then run some tests.¡± The next thing I know, some long Q-tip-looking thing¡¯s scraping the back of my throat. I try not to gag, but before I know it, I¡¯m coughing as my hands grasp Doctor Dwyer¡¯s. He pauses, letting me relax, then finishes the job. My eyes water, and then the Q-tip¡¯s pulled away and placed in a vial. ¡°Sorry about that, Claire. I¡¯ll be back in twenty minutes. Maybe less. It¡¯s probably just a variant of Strep¡ªno biggie, right?¡± Doctor Dwyer smiles, and I return it shakily. Then he disappears, and the door clicks shut behind him.
[Okay, we should be off-camera, so to speak,] James says. [The doctor¡¯s doing all the interesting stuff now.] ¡°What the fuck?¡± I whisper. My throat feels sore¡ªnot like I¡¯m sick, but like someone¡¯s just scraped the hell out of it with a Q-tip. I shiver. ¡°James, tell me you¡¯ve got advice here.¡± [I¡¯m putting together a theory. It¡¯d help if I could breach the doors here. The Halcyon System is hiding information on this anomaly and many others. But my best guess is that this is a pretty standard intro scene, so you¡¯ll get bad news about your diagnosis and have to take it from there in the next twenty minutes. In the ¡®Funeral Bells¡¯ storyline, which was the Beta storyline for this anomaly, the first death usually happens then. I¡¯m assuming this one¡¯s not quite so lethal.] ¡°I need to get out of here,¡± I mutter. I walk to the door, but my hand goes right through the knob when I try to turn it. ¡°What the fuck?¡± My heart¡¯s pounding; if Doctor Dwyer¡¯s stethoscope could hear it now, he¡¯d have a crash cart on its way. Then I look down at my fists. They¡¯re trailing black, smoky shadows. ¡°How long have I been¡­?¡± [Active? Since Dwyer pulled the Q-tip out. I thought you knew.] James pauses. [I¡¯m going to rig up something in your aug so you¡¯ll know if your powers are running since, apparently, you¡¯re not in complete control.] ¡°No, I¡¯ll do better. I just¡­¡± [Hate doctors? I get it.] James laughs. It¡¯s not a real laugh. It¡¯s a lie. I tally it up, then pretend it¡¯s not. It¡¯s better that way. ¡°Yeah. And this whole place feels familiar. I hate it, too.¡± The minutes drag by, the air conditioning pumping too-cold air into the exam room. The hoodie goes back on pretty quickly. I twiddle my thumbs, listen to James tell me about the different storylines as best he can remember, and make gun shapes with my hand. I also breathe slowly, deeply, and deliberately, just like Mrs. Vorhese, the school counselor, kept telling me to do. My nose gets pretty much used to the cleaning chemical smell. I¡¯m about ready to ask James to build a tic-tac-toe game in my aug, heat be damned, but Doctor Dwyer knocks on the door before I can. I say, ¡°Come in,¡± and he opens it without any effort at all. ¡°Have a seat,¡± Dwyer said. He fiddles with his clipboard while I crinkle back down onto the exam table. ¡°Okay, we¡¯re not sure what it is yet, but it¡¯s not Strep. I¡¯m giving you a round of antibiotics; there¡¯s a pharmacy farther down Hillside Street where you can get what you need. I¡¯ve called ahead, so they know you¡¯re coming.¡± His hand scribbles out a note; it¡¯s in doctor¡¯s writing, more impossible to read than Mrs. Helquist¡¯s. I can¡¯t make heads or tails of it. ¡°You¡¯re not in school right now, right?¡± He asks, and for a moment, he¡¯s not Dwyer. He¡¯s whoever he was before the car crash. His hand shakes as he scribbles a little more on the note. I shake my head. ¡°No. They closed everything down because of¡­whatever¡¯s going on in Sooke. I¡¯m off for the week. What a bad time to be sick, huh?¡± ¡°Sure is. Okay, Claire, you¡¯ll get your antibiotics. Take them twice a day. Other than that, stay home, stay in bed, and drink plenty of fluids. You¡¯re okay to go home.¡± ¡°Just like that? That¡¯s it?¡± The question is as much for James as for Doctor Dwyer. [This is weird. It¡¯s not according to the usual storyline at all. Maybe you¡¯re a side character or something. Either way, it¡¯s breaking my theory pretty badly. Recalculating.] I¡¯m also running the numbers as Dwyer talks. ¡°I have to get to my next patient, but you can stop by reception if you have any questions. I want to see you in three days or if things worsen.¡± He hands me the doctor¡¯s note; I stare at it, but it¡¯s unreadable. Doctor Dwyer holds the door open for me, and I step out and head for the stairs. He whistles as he walks toward the next exam room, but I ignore it. The note¡¯s incredibly hard to read, but when I go to put it in my hoodie pocket, James says, [No, keep looking at it. I¡¯m trying to reconstruct it into something legible.] ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be able to do that instantly?¡± I hiss. [No, because I¡¯m devoting almost all my processing power to other stuff and giving you a tiny percent for your curiosity¡ªand mine. Now, get us out of here.] I get downstairs, collect a spectral lollipop from the receptionist that I¡¯m pretty sure¡¯s just going to vanish when I leave, and walk right past the security guard. He nods, and a moment later, I¡¯m outside in the rain. Sure enough, the sucker disappears. The rain jacket goes on, and I cover the paper with my hood and head. ¡°Are you done with the note yet?¡± [Uh, yeah,] James says. I fold it and tuck it away before it can fade too badly. [You should read it, though.] I nod, and my aug heats up as the note¡¯s projected in front of my face. It bends and twists until the words are readable, and I clench my teeth. Under a prescription for clarithromycin and a painkiller I can¡¯t pronounce, I can read Doctor Dwyer¡¯s added words, and I¡¯m not happy about them. Help me. Please Carl Chapter Twenty-Two James faced the door that blocked the path to the SHOCKS database. It loomed over him, an impossibly large steel barrier made from ones and zeros. Those he was familiar with¡ªhe¡¯d built them, after all, with the help of SHOCKS¡¯s electronic warfare experts. And beyond that, of course, was the void space, where even binary ceased. The Halcyon System was limitless but incredibly limited at the same time. Even with computing power in the millions of teraflops, he was barely scratching its potential. A thousand of him couldn¡¯t interface with it all, and he didn¡¯t bother to try. Almost his entire circuit over its rivers of code, past the blockchain that spanned gaps between mountains, and into the thickets that caught tens of trillions of viruses in their security briars, he spent pondering the trap he and Claire were in, the simulations almost his whole mind was focused on running in the background, and the door. He needed a way in. Behind that door was a wealth of information: decades of SHOCKS research notes, audio and video records of interviews and test batteries, and recordings of the e-warfare team¡¯s meetings with him. And he¡¯d locked himself off from it all, then had Claire throw away the key. He laughed at the irony, then stopped when Claire finished reading the note. He paused the hundreds of simulations depicting her fighting, outsmarting, or fleeing from the few anomalies she¡¯d faced, and instead fired up one hyperrealistic simulation. What would Claire most likely do with the information on the note? And how could James¡¯s limited knowledge help her make the right decisions? He didn¡¯t know, but with any luck, the simulation would help. [Beginning Simulation Batch Omega-Eight-A] [Dataset: Multiple Locations, Clarice Alora Pendleton¡¯s Perspective, Various Supplements] [Beginning Simulation 1/754,200,452,120] As the ones and zeros filled his processors, James turned what was left of his attention back to the door.
Outside Aberdeen Hospital, Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 12:17 PM - - - - - ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m not going back in there,¡± I say. I¡¯m already walking away from the brick-and-shake-shingle building, the doctor¡¯s note in my pocket and the all-too-real lollipop in my hand. ¡°All Doctor Dwyer has to do is play along, and he¡¯ll be fine, right?¡± [Uh¡­] I stop and glare at the sky, my hands on my hips. My jaw already hurts; I haven¡¯t talked this much in months. ¡°James! Tell me the truth.¡± [Okay, here goes. If Carl¡¯s a main character, he¡¯ll be okay. But main characters don¡¯t usually take on roles they¡¯re not suited for, and it¡¯s a hospital. There are plenty of doctors here. The merge grabbed him because he was close, the same as you. You got lucky, though, because the only roles left were bit characters and extras. Zeta and Omega roles, in the database.] ¡°So, you¡¯re saying¡­¡± I trail off, stopping. The hospital looms across the street, its dark, curtained windows staring back at me, and its ivy-covered walls don¡¯t look elegant or charming so much as ominous. [I¡¯m not telling you what to do. But depending on how lethal ¡®Aberdeen Hospital¡¯ is, he might not make it out. And if you got out, you¡¯re not part of the storyline anymore.] ¡°Okay. And¡­what does that mean? Have you ever put someone who¡¯s not part of a storyline back into one?¡± [Uh, yes. We¡¯ve sent teams back into ¡®Funeral Bells¡¯ and ¡®High School Story.¡¯] ¡°What happened?¡± James pauses. I clear my throat, and he speaks hesitantly. [SHOCKS has records of the ¡®High School Story¡¯ re-incursion. The story¡¯s genre switches if that happens. In that one, it turned into a horror movie. The Alpha subjects reacted to the returning people as though they were monsters, fleeing, fighting, and fortifying rooms to keep the team out. In the end, we lost half the team to hostile action. The ¡®Funeral Bells¡¯ re-incursion was¡­worse.] "Could the team fight back?¡± I think back to the security guard, the door, and even Doctor Dwyer. [Yes. But when they started to, it only got more horror-like for the Alpha, Zeta, and Omega roles. If you¡¯re planning on going back in, try being subtle. If it¡¯s the same, it¡¯ll feel like you¡¯re the monster in a psychological horror film instead of a slasher. And you¡¯ll have to fight less of them.] I¡¯m still not sure about this, and I sit down to stare at the building. My boots tap on the asphalt, and my fingers tap on my knees; in the distance, I can hear an ambulance¡¯s sirens howling, and down the street, a few dogs bark, but Victoria¡¯s quiet. I run the numbers. Numbers don¡¯t lie. X in this equation is the storyline anomaly. It¡¯s weird that James hasn¡¯t given it a name and number yet. He obviously knows more about it than he¡¯s told me, though, and that¡¯s concerning. Does that count as a lie? I¡¯m not sure, honestly. But since he doesn¡¯t claim to know anything about ¡®Aberdeen Hospital,¡¯ it¡¯s just going to have to stay X. Y is Victoria as a whole. It doesn¡¯t match the SHOCKS records at all. They said it was lost, on its way to being destroyed. They said people were evacuating. But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m seeing¡ªpeople are holed up in their houses and apartments, but most aren¡¯t leaving. So, if that¡¯s the case, is Merge Prime as bad as SHOCKS said it was? Or is it about to get bad, and I just can¡¯t tell yet? I¡¯d ask James, but he doesn¡¯t know. Without his connection to the SHOCKS database, there¡¯s a lot he doesn¡¯t know. And Z is me. I don¡¯t know enough about me¡ªabout my powers¡­my Skills. If I had more of them, I¡¯d be able to do this. If I¡¯d gone with Dad instead of poking around that thinning, I wouldn¡¯t have to. So, even though I hate that I¡¯m a variable, here I am. I push the math aside. If I had an hour, I could puzzle through it. But I don¡¯t. ¡°Got it.¡± I take a deep breath, send another aug text that won¡¯t get through to Alice, letting her know I¡¯ve been delayed again, and stand up. [New Inquiry: What¡¯s happened to Doctor Dwyer?]
The first hint that something¡¯s not right happens as I step through the door. Doctor Dwyer¡¯s waiting in reception. With one of those wheeled gurneys patients lie down on. He smiles at me. ¡°Thank God you¡¯re back. We know what¡¯s wrong with you¡ªwe need to get you to treatment, stat!¡± Something about his smile is¡­wrong. I step back toward the door, but the security guard¡¯s already in the way, and I can¡¯t fight him. James is whispering in my aug, [Hold on, something¡¯s off here. Just play along for now. I¡¯m trying to remember the other storylines because re-incurring actors are always treated as a genre shift. Always.] I smile back shakily. ¡°Thanks, doc. I¡¯ll walk, though. I don¡¯t feel that bad, really.¡± ¡°I have to insis¡ª¡° Dwyer twitches. Convulses. His teeth bare for a moment, almost ferally, like he¡¯s a monster. Then, all at once, he¡¯s back to his ¡®normal¡¯ self. ¡°Fine. Just hurry. Exam room thirty-seven. I¡¯m getting the implements we¡¯ll need.¡± He smiles again. There it is. He had a mask on the entire time we were in the same room. So did the receptionist and the security guard. Everyone had a mask the first time I was here, and now it seems like no one does.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I try not to flinch. Instead, I hurry toward the elevator. Last time, I took the stairs, but I need a moment or two by myself with James. The door shuts, and I push the button for floor three. ¡°Okay, James, this is not what you said would happen! I¡¯m still in the storyline, they¡¯re not treating me like a monster, and I¡¯m not sure why the masks are off.¡± [Hold on. I¡¯m processing.] Sometimes, I forget James is a digital thing. He¡¯s a person, yes, but sometimes, he doesn¡¯t act like one. The seconds go by as the elevator raises, until suddenly, he shouts in my ear, [Emergency stop! Now!] I jam my fist into the button, and the elevator slams to a stop, tossing me onto the floor. James is talking before I can pick myself up or ask what¡¯s happening. [The genre shifted the moment you walked onto the hospital property. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a hospital drama anymore. It¡¯s become a hospital horror show. I¡¯m trying to figure out what the other merges did to the storylines, too.] An alarm¡¯s howling. It won¡¯t stop, reminding me of the ones in the SHOCKS Headquarters. That gives me an idea. ¡°James, how do the storylines sustain themselves? Is the merge still open? Or was it an instant change like when I got the Revolver?¡± [The merge is open somewhere. Why?] ¡°I¡¯m thinking, but it¡¯s not a plan yet. Just an idea. Could we shut down the merge?¡± [Not without a Universal Reality Anchor. That¡¯d probably have the power to do it.] ¡°West End High had one. Where¡¯s the Aberdeen Hospital one?¡± The thing exists. It has to. They wouldn¡¯t protect a school and not a hospital. I bite down the gnawing feeling in my stomach. [I¡¯m not sure. Without SHOCKS database access, I can¡¯t pull up the blueprints. Probably either in the basement or up high. Neither sounds like a good idea because when Doctor Dwyer finds you, you don¡¯t want to be cornered.] ¡°Then he won¡¯t find us. Up. We¡¯ll go up.¡± I press the sixth-floor button, and the elevator starts moving again. It crawls up toward the top floor¡ªat least from what I counted¡ªand I can hear it grinding and humming. Whatever implements Doctor Dwyer¡¯s getting, I hope it takes him a while. Finally, after an eternity that¡¯s almost surely less than a minute, the elevator door opens onto a completely sterile floor. Not clean¡ªthe rest of Aberdeen Hospital¡¯s been clean, whether you use Alice¡¯s standard, my somewhat less serious one, or Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s ¡®chaos is clean¡¯ mentality. Sterile. Like there hasn¡¯t been a person up here in weeks, except for the cleaning lady or janitor. Every machine is perfectly polished; I can see my reflection in the chrome. I start making my way through the rows of medical machinery, all facing the elevator door. Somewhere in this maze is the URA. I can¡¯t think of a better spot for it; no one would find it here, and anyone who did would think it¡¯s only more medical equipment. Breathing machines, IV towers, and even what I think might be an old Iron Lung from when Polio was a thing. It¡¯s all here. But I can only hear my boots on the ground, my heart pounding in my ear, and a clock ticking somewhere in the distance. A shiver catches me off guard, and I whirl as something catches my eye. ¡°Hello?¡± I ask the empty room full of chrome, stainless steel, and plastic. Nothing responds, at least not that I can see. The air conditioner¡¯s still blasting away, and I¡¯m just as happy I¡¯ve left my raincoat on, even though I¡¯m sweating like it¡¯s PE class under it. I pass a door blocked by medical equipment in the only disorganized pile on the whole floor. Next to it, half-covered by some massive monitoring machine, is a directory for the lower five floors. I¡¯m in the middle of reading it when someone¡¯s hand clamps around my wrist and slams me into the ground.
¡°Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, this is Lambda Four-5. Freeze!¡± A rifle¡¯s barrel presses hard between my shoulder blades, and Sergeant Strauss¡¯s whole weight is on the knee jammed into my lower back. [Listen to him!] James says. He¡¯s hurrying. Panicking. I can feel it in his voice. [I¡¯m not sure why he¡¯s here, but he¡¯s not part of the storyline, either. He can help you get out of this mess. Just trust him!] A steel handcuff closes over one of my wrists, and I decide James is full of shit. I turn into smoke, and Strauss, the rifle, and the handcuffs fall through me and onto the floor. I roll left and become solid as something on his chest starts whining. It picks up steam until it sounds like a teakettle in one of the movies, then stops with an audible pop. My head fuzzes. He lunges, but not for me. Instead, his grip lands on the rifle. ¡°Oh fuck.¡± The rifle spins around toward me, and I turn and run. Something clicks behind me. It goes off a moment later, and a bullet rips into my lower back. I scream as I fall. I haven¡¯t felt that kind of pain since West End High; it¡¯s like touching an outlet with a fork. It¡¯s like the Revolver when I touched it for the first time. It burns, and it won¡¯t stop! I hit the ground, twitching, and force one of my hands to cover the wound. It¡¯s not wet. There¡¯s no blood. ¡°573-Alpha, freeze. Next round¡¯s lethal.¡± The gun¡¯s up against my neck this time. If he decides to shoot, I don¡¯t have a chance. I¡¯ve lost this one, at least for now. I freeze. The cuffs click shut. ¡°You know I can get out of those any time, right?¡± I say. The rifle¡¯s barrel presses painfully into my spine. Message received; I hold my tongue and my breath. James is quiet, too. ¡°Command, L4-5 reporting in. I¡¯ve arrived at Area of Interest Fourteen, as per orders. Encountered Area - 249-V-1/RA Provisional, as well as Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha. Orders?¡± Strauss says. The gun doesn¡¯t leave my neck, the pressure doesn¡¯t let up, and whatever¡¯s on his chest is starting to whine again. ¡°The PRA is working well so far, but I¡¯m starting to hear wear and tear already. Yes, ma¡¯am. Fifteen minutes. Alright, I¡¯ll hurry. L4-5, out.¡± The gun leaves my neck¡ªfinally¡ªand he pulls me into a sitting position against the sixth floor¡¯s wall. He doesn¡¯t undo my fucking cuffs, though. I¡¯m about ready to do that myself when he starts talking. ¡°I¡¯ve got orders to bring you back in. I also have orders to find the URA here, get it fixed, and get back to headquarters. Those are more important, so I need to know if you¡¯re going to get in my way or wait here quietly.¡± I don¡¯t say anything. The rifle¡¯s barrel is still pointed at my head, and I could turn to shadow, but I couldn¡¯t do it fast enough to dodge a bullet. Tears build up in my eyes¡ªthe hot, angry kind. If it weren¡¯t for the gun, I¡¯d tear him apart. Half of me still wants to try. ¡°Answer me.¡± ¡°Do you know what¡ª¡° The gun goes up. ¡°No questions. Just answers.¡± And just like that, I get it. A moment before James does, or at least before he says, [He thinks you¡¯re an infovampire.] I almost laugh, but the gun¡¯s still in my face. So, instead, I take a deep breath, planning out what I want to say so I don¡¯t trigger his trigger. ¡°I¡¯m going home. Right now, that means shutting off this merge, and if you can help me do that, I won¡¯t get in your way. I¡¯ll even help you out. But I¡¯m not like Li Mei. You can relax about that.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t trust that,¡± Strauss says, and the gun doesn¡¯t move. ¡°We found containment breaches all over Headquarters, Li Mei¡¯s missing, and so were you. The Acting Director¡¯s convinced Li Mei did something to you, and from what I¡¯m seeing, I believe it.¡± ¡°What?¡± The question¡¯s out of my mouth before I realize it. I curse mentally. Strauss doesn¡¯t react. He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s fighting anything, and after a moment, he lowers the rifle, letting the sling across his chest take the weight. Then he pulls me up by the handcuffs. I hiss as they dig into my wrists. He leads me into the women¡¯s bathroom and, when he can¡¯t turn on the light, shines a flashlight into a mirror. I see a familiar face staring back at me, but instead of brown eyes, they¡¯re jet-black pools with no whites and a burning crimson core.
So, that¡¯s a lot to unpack. And I¡¯m going to. But not right now. Not with a gun at my back, a stressed-out SHOCKS trooper at the trigger, and a whole building full of possessed doctors that I assume are looking for me. Instead, I blink, and the crimson core fades a little. ¡°I see.¡± [Oh, uh, that¡¯s not great. That¡¯s not great at all. I¡¯m working on an explanation.] I don¡¯t say anything else. Sergeant Strauss has all the power right now, and I need him to trust me. Ha. Like that¡¯s going to happen. ¡°Okay, Alpha.¡± The handcuffs click off, and I look over my shoulder before I can stop myself. Strauss is standing at the door, one hand on his pistol, one¡ªwithout a glove¡ªstuck out at me. His rifle¡¯s hanging from its harness, but even so, I can¡¯t fight him. ¡°You think you have the same goal I do. Let¡¯s make a deal. We work together, find the URA, start it up, and then go our separate ways.¡± I size up the hand. It¡¯s a test. Li Mei refused to touch anyone; when she touched me, it started her info feeding. Then I shake my head. ¡°You want me to prove I can¡¯t or won¡¯t do it, huh? I don¡¯t have Li Mei¡¯s powers. Not all of them. If I did, I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± I shake his hand, and nothing happens. He relaxes. Not much, but a little. His hand leaves the pistol, and he gestures at the door. ¡°After you, then.¡± I follow along, watching him follow me with his eyes. I decide he was lying. I might not be cuffed or in a cell, but I¡¯m SHOCKS¡¯s prisoner once again. And that¡¯s not going to work for me. ¡°Do you know where it is?¡± I ask. ¡°No. The JAMES unit is down. Whatever you did, it fucked shit up at Headquarters.¡± He¡¯s not telling me anything I don¡¯t already know. We walk through the medical equipment. ¡°You?¡± ¡°If I knew, I¡¯d tell you. I want this done as much as you do.¡± Maybe more. ¡°It¡¯s not on the top floor, so it¡¯s probably in the basement. The building¡¯s under a storyline merge or something. What do you know about that?¡± ¡°Not sure. Let me call it in.¡± Strauss walks toward the elevator, muttering to himself¡ªor to SHOCKS. He stops at the door, hand on his rifle trigger. Then he nods slowly. ¡°Thanks, Ramirez. You triggered the genre shift, didn¡¯t you?¡± I nod. ¡°Medical horror.¡± ¡°Great.¡± He shudders. Clearly, it¡¯s not great. Not at all. Then he gestures to the elevator. ¡°Let¡¯s get this open.¡± I push the buttons while he watches. I don¡¯t trust him. He doesn¡¯t trust me. So we¡¯re even. The elevator opens, and he steps in. I join him, standing as far from him as possible; he pushes ¡®B,¡¯ and the elevator starts dropping. [Claire, I have a terrible idea, but it¡¯s important. I think I can get back into the SHOCKS database, but I need physical contact with Strauss¡¯s helmet. If I¡¯m right, they re-opened Headquarters to the internet. It¡¯s the only way they can operate his PRA and filters without me. Get in close, touch his helmet, and I¡¯ll do the rest.] Accessing that database is as important as getting this Universal Reality Anchor running. Maybe even more. It¡¯s not worth catching a bullet, but it¡¯s close. I nod with my eyes; Strauss probably can¡¯t see it, but James can. Then I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and start running numbers. Chapter Twenty-Three SHOCKS Headquarters, British Columbia - May 29, 2043, 11:13 PM - - - - - The convoy pulled into SHOCKS Headquarters¡¯ garage, and Lieutenant Rodriguez breathed a sigh of relief as the last truck rumbled into its parking spot and the engines cut off. Around her, truck doors opened as RST troopers disembarked, stretching before helping researchers unload the Mobile Containment Units or establishing a perimeter around the ones that looked like they were about to breach. ¡°Doctor Ramirez, give me a status report. How many did we lose?¡± She barked. The shifty-looking doctor jumped at her voice but hurried over, fingers moving across a tablet¡¯s screen as sweat dripped from his brow. He fiddled with the device for a few minutes before clearing his throat. ¡°We lost four Xuduo-Danger anomalies from the time we turned around until now. One Geren and no Anquan. There¡¯s a chance the Geren will turn up again, too. It¡¯s an Object with spontaneous manifestation in any previously-visited location, so if it shows up in containment¡ª¡° ¡°Okay, great. See if you can open the facility doors so we can move back in.¡± Rodriguez dismissed the researcher with a wave, then grabbed her right-hand man, Strauss. ¡°Your new job is to keep Doctor Ramirez in line until we¡¯re established. He¡¯s probably Acting Director, so he¡¯ll have the whole facility under his control. Make sure he doesn¡¯t do anything stupid. We¡¯ll set up for expeditions once we¡¯re secure here.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Strauss said, snapping a salute. He followed the doctor, stripping his battle gear but keeping a pistol at his waist. The moment he disappeared, Olivia Rodriguez took a deep breath, letting herself relax with a shiver for the first time in their eight-hour drive back across Victoria. They¡¯d had close calls and, twice, had to drive straight through merge events with guns blazing, but somehow, they¡¯d only lost five MCUs and a half-dozen personnel. She closed her eyes and leaned against the armored truck¡¯s rear bumper; if she was right, they had enough people to keep SHOCKS Headquarters VVI running¡ªand with the communications blackout, they could get established before the other HQs figured out what had happened. Or they could try hailing the other HQs and letting them know what had happened here. They were violating about a dozen SHOCKS protocols¡ªnot to mention were actual traitors¡ªbut the facility had felt like a better bet than dashing across Vancouver hoping for an empty ferry. And she was pretty sure she could find evidence that Director Smith wasn¡¯t following protocol in his evacuation. Their job was to contain and study anomalies, and in a disaster like this, they had to focus on the containment part. Other facilities would understand. They¡¯d have to. And if not, it wasn¡¯t like they could get here and stop her. Victoria was a no-fly zone, and there weren¡¯t any boats across. If there had been, she¡¯d have gone with Director Smith, procedure violations or not. ¡°Lieutenant, you need to see this,¡± Strauss called over his comms. ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem. Director¡¯s office.¡± ¡°Fuck,¡± Olivia said under her breath. ¡°I¡¯ll be there in one minute.¡± She ran through the facility, passing dozens of computers stuck at their login screens. About halfway through the offices, she realized she was still in her battle gear, right down to the rifle hanging on its harness. The familiar weight felt comforting, and she slid her hand into the grip, though the safety stayed on and her finger rested outside the guard. Acting Director Ramirez sat in the Director¡¯s chair, staring at the computer¡¯s screen in horror. ¡°Lieutenant, the JAMES system isn¡¯t down. It¡¯s¡­gone.¡± ¡°What do you mean, gone?¡± Lieutenant flipped the safety off¡ªif the JAMES system was down, containment breaches would follow. ¡°I mean there¡¯s a sector off the Xuduo-Danger wing that houses the JAMES unit. Nothing there is responding, and I can¡¯t pull up information on any anomalies¡¯ status. It¡¯s like there¡¯s no JAMES unit, and without it, we don¡¯t have automatic databases, security, SHOCKS emergency systems¡­nothing.¡± Lieutenant Rodriquez grabbed the doctor¡¯s arm and dragged him out of the seat. ¡°Show me. Strauss, get geared up, grab L4, and meet us at the Xuduo wing in three.¡± As she dragged Acting Director Ramirez through the halls and toward the elevator, Rodriguez found her heart pounding. The elevator¡¯s doors looked shredded and shot¡ªand not by a small weapon. Was this the work of an anom? And which one? She kept her weapon trained on the elevator until the rest of RST Lambda-Four arrived, loaded for a big fight. Strauss had his tech bag, but other than that, every piece of gear was built to kill anomalies. ¡°Okay, stack up, keep the acting director alive, and keep your teammates covered. No telling what¡¯s going on in there,¡± Rodriguez said. ¡°All in, go.¡± The team hurried into the elevator, which smelled faintly of smoke and gunpowder. Rodriguez''s heart pounded the whole way down and all the way through the stuffy, ash-filled Xuduo hall. She expected an ambush, but nothing leaped out at them, and even though every man¡¯s tension pushed against hers, their training paid off. Even better, the containment cells¡ªthose that hadn¡¯t been evacuated, at least¡ªwere still sealed, if damaged. ¡°Looks like the Stag Lord,¡± L4-2 said. ¡°That one¡¯s a piece of work. I was involved in a recontainment attempt two or three years back. Hopefully, it¡¯s not the cause of this.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Strauss said. ¡°Keep it quiet, good intervals, and switch to incendiary.¡± Rodriguez sprinted down the hall toward a door at the end¡ªone that should have been locked but that¡¯d been ripped from its hinges. She shivered but leaned in closer and stared at the rotting roots wedged into what was left of the frame. Then she waved L4-2 over. ¡°This the Stag Lord¡¯s work?¡± He ducked in to take a close look. Then he pointed at the door. ¡°Affirmative. Weapons sharp, shoot to kill. It¡¯ll temporarily neutralize it, then we can lock it up in a fire room and keep it suppressed.¡± ¡°Got it. You heard L4-2. Get ready to rock, ladies and gentlemen.¡± Rodriguez handed Doctor Ramirez her pistol. ¡°You too. Don¡¯t shoot us. Say something if you see something, and keep yourself out of trouble.¡± Without waiting for a response, she pushed through the door into the JAMES Experimental Sector. The electric and wood smoke smell only got thicker as they moved past the server banks and toward the main console¡ªand the shredded plant matter that covered half of the concrete floor. Acting Director Rameriz sprinted past her and toward the console before she could stop him, pistol clattering to the ground by his feet. ¡°Oh dear. Oh dear, that¡¯s not good at all.¡± For now, she ignored the scientist¡¯s whitening face and worried-sounding muttering. Instead, she moved toward the gigantic mound of plants. L4-2 kicked at something. ¡°Fuck. That¡¯s the Stag Lord.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the Stag Lord?¡± Rodriguez asked, raising an eyebrow at the tiny, burned object. From the holes in its body, it didn¡¯t look like much of a threat. L4-2 nodded slowly. ¡°Neutralized. Not temporarily, either. I¡¯ve never seen damage like that. It had to be anomalous.¡± ¡°Confirmed,¡± Acting Director Ramirez said from the computer. ¡°All the damage is in line with our tests on Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha and her weapon. I can¡¯t get the JAMES unit running through this damage. There¡¯s just no way.¡± ¡°Okay. Battle plan?¡± Rodriguez asked. Strauss cleared his throat. Then, after a moment of silence, he started talking. ¡°We go back upstairs, set up a Universal Reality Anchor at the top of the elevator, and set up other temporary containment there. Guard it, hole up here, and start trying to track down IO Alpha. We get her back, we get James back, too. And we try to keep the city from falling apart.¡± Rodriguez nodded. Then she started heading for the airlock. Her head spun from the mess she was in now, and when she got to the elevator, she didn¡¯t notice the thin black wisp of smoke that joined RST Lambda-Four for its ride up.
Aberdeen Hospital, Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 12:43 PM - - - - - By the time the elevator dings and opens, I¡¯ve thought of¡ªand thrown away¡ªseveral possible equations. James has offered some information, but he¡¯s not helping eliminate variables; there are just too many of those. So, my current plan is as follows. I¡¯m going to play this completely straight. That¡¯s the whole plan. I¡¯m going to listen to Sergeant Strauss, follow directions, and not let him know any of my other skills. And if I get an opportunity to do what James wants, I¡¯ll take it, but as important as that link to the SHOCKS database is, it¡¯s not worth getting killed for. And Strauss is highly suspicious of me right now. So, the elevator door opens, and he gestures for me to take the lead. I step out into a hall. But it¡¯s not the hospital hall. It¡¯s dark¡ªnot pitch-black, but dark enough that Strauss flips on his flashlight. And high above, where the walls end in an open sky, I can see a single red sun, impossibly close, and wispy clouds that look stretched and twisted by a wind we can¡¯t feel this far down.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. While Strauss¡¯s flashlight illuminates the red brick walls and something that¡¯s dripped all over the floor, I smell the lilacs and copper in the air, only half paying attention. What I¡¯m really doing is running the numbers as James talks my ear off. [This matches R093. Maze world, with an exit somewhere inside it. And based on the blood, it¡¯s feeding off the hospital¡¯s patients¡­or its staff. That might be why the storyline needed a new doctor. I¡¯m trying to rebuild the SHOCKS database entry on it, but we could really use Strauss¡¯s information here. All I have are my memories, not the facts.] The math is simple. That¡¯s refreshing, after all the complicated variables in SHOCKS Headquarters. If Strauss cooperates with me, we¡¯ll both get through this. If not, we won¡¯t. But he¡¯s obviously got orders to place me under custody, and he¡¯s also called for backup. Or at least, I would have if I were him. And flower smells never mean anything good, and the lilac scent¡¯s getting stronger. ¡°This isn¡¯t part of your storyline, is it, Alpha?¡± Strauss asks. I snort. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. They gave me a prescription for antibiotics and let me go. Then, when I came back, everyone was a little off.¡± I don¡¯t elaborate. Doctor Dwyer¡¯s smile¡¯s still stuck in my head, and I¡¯d rather not guess what kind of medical contraptions he¡¯s got rigged up in exam room thirty-seven. It doesn¡¯t matter because we¡¯re down here¡ªor in here, whatever¡ªand we can¡¯t worry about that until we deal with this. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ve called it in, and I¡¯m waiting for a response.¡± Strauss turns around, and I follow the flashlight¡¯s circle as it passes over the wall where the elevator used to be. Sure enough, it¡¯s nothing but a brick wall. My eyes squeeze closed, and I open them in case this is a nightmare. It¡¯s not, but it was a nice thought. ¡°Still think the URA¡¯s down here?¡± I ask. ¡°I really hope so. Command, we¡¯ve encountered a shift. The basement is a separate anomaly. Please advise.¡± He¡¯s quiet for a moment, and in that moment, I decide to take control. Before he can finish saying, ¡°Command, come in,¡± a second time, I¡¯ve got my Revolver out, and I¡¯m moving into the hall. My heart¡¯s pounding as I work my way down the hall, careful not to step in the trail of dark brown blood. After a moment, Strauss starts following me, breathing steadily. I wish I could be that calm. It¡¯s calm enough that my pulse isn¡¯t deafening anymore by the time we reach the first intersection. I stop there, facing right, while Strauss faces left¡ªtoward the blood streak. He keeps looking over his shoulder at me until I clear my throat. ¡°If I wanted to make a move, I would have by now.¡± Strauss stiffens. His gun¡¯s up to his shoulder, in my face, and my heartbeat¡¯s out of control again. But I¡¯m committed now. ¡°I have a secret to tell you, and I know exactly how you¡¯re going to react, but it¡¯s worth it to tell you now.¡± But before I can actually tell him, something rushes up from behind Strauss.
They¡¯re rats. Dozens of them, skinless and each as high as my knee, surge along the blood streak toward Strauss. My Revolver goes up, but I hesitate long enough for him to get out of the way. They¡¯re not watching him, anyway. Their yellow eyes are all on me, glowing in the flashlight. I start firing. Half a dozen rats explode, their guts burning as they turn to vapor. Strauss fires four times. Four rats die. One bites his foot. The boot takes the worst of it. He shakes it off and fires again. The Revolver booms out again and again. Rats swarm past Strauss toward me. I back up down the right-hand path. One rat bites into my thigh. It chews my skin. I turn to shadow, and it falls to the floor. Strauss fires three more times. One bullet punches through my shadow form. Two more find rats. I¡¯m solid. The Revolver¡¯s firing. A rat¡¯s chewing on Strauss¡¯s arm. Something¡¯s biting me. Lots of somethings are biting me. Muzzle flashes. Brick dust. The smell of lilacs. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 4] Then, suddenly, it¡¯s quiet. ¡°Jesus,¡± Strauss says. I nod slowly. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I mutter to myself. I¡¯ve got chew holes in my leggings, and one rat¡¯s mauled my boots, but I¡¯m only bleeding from a couple of wounds, and even those are¡­not painless, but dull and throbbing like they¡¯ve been there for a while instead of fresh. So that¡¯s different. [R093 had various hazards. None of them were important enough for me to remember in detail. Those rats aren¡¯t even a Geren-Danger anomaly,] James says. ¡°Thanks, James,¡± I say. Strauss stiffens. He points his gun at me, and I nod again. ¡°Yeah. Your system¡¯s with me now. So, since you¡¯re cut off and I¡¯ve got the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System at my disposal, we need to talk about what happens once we¡¯re out of here.¡± ¡°No, we don¡¯t.¡± Strauss is also bleeding, but he lowers his gun. A moment later, he¡¯s digging in a pocket on his belt. He pops a painkiller, wraps a couple loops of white bandage around the worst bites, and stares me down. ¡°Alpha, I like you. But right now, if you want to get out of here at all, you¡¯re coming with me. I¡¯ve got the equipment to get us both out of here. We¡¯ll go our separate ways, and I can tell Command that you got killed. They¡¯ll believe it. You¡¯re just a greenie.¡± He¡¯s bluffing. I know he is. So, before he can turn and walk away, I plant my feet. ¡°Strauss, I¡¯m tired, and I haven¡¯t eaten anything except dried prunes in two days. My head¡¯s pounding from my shitty augs, so how about you sit down and tell me what¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°No.¡± He starts walking, but while I might not know the truth, I know he¡¯s not telling it. That makes the bluffing game an easy one to win. By the fifth step, though, I¡¯m doubting myself a little. Then he stops. ¡°Fine. I have three missions. First, reactivate the Universal Reality Anchor. Second, secure Aberdeen Hospital to use it as an evac point. And last, bring you in. So, after we get out of here, the cuffs go back on, and we drive right back to VVI Headquarters. ¡° That¡¯s a slap. It¡¯s also the truth, though. Strauss has no intention of letting me go. ¡°James, options?¡± [Your best bet continues to be sticking with him. You might be able to build a rapport and convince him not to turn you in, or escape once you¡¯re free from R093.] ¡°No, that¡¯s not going to happen.¡± I level the Revolver at him, backing down the right-hand path. He nods slowly, both hands off his rifle. ¡°If you try to follow me, I¡¯ll punch a hole in you, armor or not. You can¡¯t handle me.¡± Strauss doesn¡¯t make a move. He just stares at me. His mouth¡¯s moving inside his visor, though. I¡¯m not sure who he¡¯s talking to, but it¡¯s not SHOCKS. It can¡¯t be SHOCKS. We¡¯re not even in the same reality as them anymore. I keep the Revolver trained on him until I¡¯m around the corner, then I run. My feet pound on the brick floor, and when I round a corner, my shoulder hits the unyielding red-brown wall. I make it around the next corner, then stop. Overhead, one of the turbo-speed clouds wafts by. [Alright, you¡¯re far enough. Don¡¯t get lost.] James is right. I can¡¯t trust Strauss, but I can¡¯t get lost, either. ¡°Are you mapping this?¡± [I¡¯m trying to. I¡¯m also analyzing escape plans before something worse than a vaguely anomalous Anquan-Danger rat finds us.] "And, what do you have? [Two options. First, you push down this path and see if you can break through somewhere. I map our route the whole way, and we trial and error until I see a pattern we can exploit.] ¡°Or?¡± That sounds awful and slow. [We follow Strauss.] ¡°Oh¡­¡± [The blood trail makes me think that whatever¡¯s in charge of this maze lives that way, and R093¡¯s exit points are always controlled by the biggest monster in the area. So, if I¡¯m right¡­] ¡°Oh. Strauss is heading toward the ¡®boss monster,¡¯ yeah. Makes sense.¡± I check the Revolver, stretch my limbs¡ªthe feeling of stretched bite wounds is painful in a familiar, achy way¡ªand turn back toward the SHOCKS agent.
Rats attack before I¡¯m even to the bloodstain. Their furless, skinless bodies surge forward like the tide, but I¡¯m already shooting. Three fall. Five. A couple get to me, biting at my boots and legs. I kick one away, then shoot the other. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 8] The fight¡¯s over almost before it begins, leaving me alone. The strung-out clouds fly over, and I can hear the wind whistling against the maze¡¯s open top in the silence. A little brick grit falls into the passageway, bouncing against my hair and glasses, and I keep walking. Is it just walls, or are the hollow spaces filled in? I don¡¯t know, and after a moment, I decide I don¡¯t care. It won¡¯t help me solve this maze. Besides, James is helpfully projecting a map in my eye. The heat¡¯s picking up, but it¡¯s manageable so far; I blink back a tear and keep walking. The blood trail¡¯s still there. So are the rat corpses. I start moving toward the left path, but James clears his throat. [Give him a couple more minutes. You don¡¯t want to run into him¡ªotherwise, we¡¯re both right back where we started. And don¡¯t forget, if you can get access to his helmet, that¡¯ll help me out a lot.] ¡°Yeah, okay, got it.¡± I¡¯m not in a waiting-around mood, so I busy myself by checking out one of the more intact rat bodies. The thing doesn¡¯t have fur or skin; if I hadn¡¯t seen rats in our basic living building all the time, I wouldn¡¯t be able to tell it even was one. Its head is half caved in from the rifle round that blew through it, but one yellow eye stares back at me, unmoving. Its leg muscle tightens when I poke it, jerking the whole rat forward. I take a step back. Rats are bad enough, but something about these makes my stomach rise into my throat. [The Halcyon System¡¯s calling it a pride rat pack. I hate these names. SHOCKS called them R093-L-Alpha.] ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not going to work." Pride rat pack sounds better. The wind¡¯s howling is a little different overhead, and I start jogging down the maze. ¡°Think he¡¯ll follow the blood?¡± [80% certain.] That¡¯s pretty good. And James isn¡¯t lying about the number, but something feels weird about it. It¡¯s not a truthful number, even if it¡¯s not a lie. I decide not to say anything; instead, I follow the blood. Strauss has been careful not to step in the blood, but here and there, I can see the edge of a boot pattern. Another group of rats runs toward me, but it¡¯s smaller than the last two, and three Revolver shots finish them off before they can bite at my calves. Even though it doesn¡¯t hurt as much as it should, it¡¯s painful enough, and I release a relieved breath when the last one dies. [Skill Learned: Endurance 4] My wounds are scabbing over already by the time I hear a rifle¡¯s rapid-fire pops in the distance. They grow closer, followed by a hissing roar I can¡¯t place. Suddenly, the arrows in James¡¯s map change, reversing direction and diving down a side hallway. [Hurry! Go!] I¡¯ve barely turned the corner when the rifle sounds redouble in volume. Strauss is firing for all he¡¯s worth, and as he backs past my hiding spot, his whole attention is on something that towers over him. His shots echo off the wall behind me, and I ready the Revolver, but then he¡¯s gone, backing down the hall toward the direction I just came from. The thing he¡¯s shooting at fills the whole hall a moment later. Tall. That¡¯s my first impression. Limbs are too long and thick. The arms hang down almost to its ankles. It¡¯s naked, with pink skin so pale it¡¯s almost white, and I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s male or female. Its chest is practically caved in, and it¡¯s bleeding from a dozen wounds. But those don¡¯t catch my eye. What does is the blade attached to its arm-stump, where its wrist should be. It¡¯s as long as me¡ªmaybe as long as Strauss. The screeching its tip makes fills the whole hall as it scrapes the floor. It drowns out the whistling wind. It¡¯s dragging the huge knife down the hall. Not in a rush. It ignores another burst from Strauss¡¯s rifle. As it walks by, its gray eyes and noseless face peer at me. Then it¡¯s gone. Stalking Strauss. And once I stop shaking in fear from the monstrous figure¡¯s gaze, I have a choice to make. This thing has to be the exit monster. And it definitely has it out for Strauss. Running for it, leaving this maze, and turning on the URA on the other side would be simple. I could be gone by the time Strauss gets out and not have to worry about him. Or I could help him. James is quiet. He¡¯s probably running a simulation or trying to put together some info about the¡ª [Scythestalker] ¡ªSure, the scythestalker. I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s not what James wants to call it, but here we are. So I could help Strauss. He¡¯s outmatched. The little wounds he¡¯s managed to make on that monster haven¡¯t slowed it down, and it knows the maze better than he does. Maybe with James mapping a route, he¡¯d be okay. But he doesn¡¯t have James. I do, and I¡¯ve got the Revolver. That¡¯s got to have enough punch to at least make that thing respect me as a threat, right? Besides, even though I don¡¯t have to trust Strauss, having him in my debt might be helpful once we¡¯re out of the maze. Maybe he¡¯ll let me go or give me a head start. Besides, he might be a boogeyman, but he¡¯s also a person, and I haven¡¯t seen enough of them recently. And that makes the choice easy. I run back into the blood-covered hall, Revolver up, and pull the trigger. The fire burst catches the scythestalker in the small of its back, and it hiss-roars as it turns to face me. Chapter Twenty-Four Nanaimo, Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 12:17 PM - - - - - Director Adam Smith¡¯s back wouldn¡¯t pop anymore. He turned his back on the empty ferry slip where the Nanaimo ferry to Vancouver was supposed to be. The rest of the SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island team hadn¡¯t been in touch with him in almost twenty-one hours; he didn¡¯t know if it was because they¡¯d evacuated somewhere else, made it back to Headquarters, or ran into something they couldn¡¯t handle. At least he¡¯d found a few packs of cigarettes. He lit one, letting the smoke waft around his head as it hung from his lower lip. If evacuation wasn¡¯t going to work, he needed a different plan, but he was too tired to think of anything useful. He put the cigarette into the crook of his finger, yawned, and climbed into the armored truck¡¯s cab. The radio was on, but as usual, it wasn¡¯t playing anything except for a looping Emergency Warning about an outbreak in Sooke. He ignored it; it wasn¡¯t an outbreak. It was a merge¡ªone of dozens he hadn¡¯t been able to stop, or even slow down. The radio crackled, and for a moment, he could hear L4-5¡¯s voice asking for information. He cursed. Those dumbass RST troopers weren¡¯t supposed to be broadcasting, not with Merge Prime ramping up and 0-G-4/U1-Beta looking for any hole in SHOCKS¡¯s cybersecurity to exploit. Then the radio went silent. Not back to the Emergency Warning or the police messages he¡¯d been listening to, but silent. All he could hear was a thin siren in the distance¡ªthe city¡¯s tsunami warnings blaring to warn people about the ongoing emergency. He started up the truck¡¯s engine; it turned over once, then twice, before coughing faster and faster as the diesel engine roared to life. A pile of documents, a locked-down tablet, and a pair of flash drives sat on the passenger seat¡ªthe sum total of SHOCKS VVI¡¯s research on the ongoing disaster. It was worse to the southwest. Sooke wasn¡¯t just a plague zone. It was sliding into the sea as something in the water slowly dragged buildings under. Closer to home, all of Esquimalt was either on fire, about to be on fire, or already burned to the ground. He recognized that anomaly as Event - 1209-L-5/P13¡ªa nasty biopyro anomaly that fed on flames and created the flames it fed on. Qishi-Danger for sure, but stuck on the wrong side of a few bridges for now. Whatever Clarice Alora Pendleton, aka VI 5389-4, aka Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, had done in Albert Head, SHOCKS had declared it a must-hold area. He had declared it a must-hold area. Merge Prime had started there, and that school had the best on-site information about how it had happened. Director Smith revved the engine and started driving back toward Victoria. He held the first print-out up against the steering wheel as he barrelled down the highway. He couldn¡¯t leave, and the shroud the Supernatural/Hidden Object Control and Knowledge Service had always operated under was shredded and frayed, but he could try to do something about this mess. He read through 573-V-1IO Alpha¡¯s records as he drove. By the time he got back to Victoria¡¯s outskirts, smoke had filled the truck¡¯s cab, and he couldn¡¯t read the words on the print-outs. God, he was so tired.
Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Space my shots. One every two seconds. Slither away from the blade. It grazes my hoodie''s pulls. Fire again. Bullet Time. Three shots, right of center. They fire. The thing screeches¡ªhigher pitched than you¡¯d expect. Strauss¡¯s gun¡¯s going off. Use Smoke Form to dodge another blow. The Revolver¡¯s hot in my hand. The air smells like gunpowder, copper, and lilacs. The Revolver clicks empty. Its cylinder¡¯s dull. I use Slither again. Strauss is still shooting. Brick dust fills the air. The Scythestalker turns. I know what it¡¯s about to do. But I can¡¯t stop it. It lunges toward Strauss. It¡¯s bleeding from dozens of bullet impacts. My Revolver¡¯s destroyed its chest. It shouldn¡¯t be able to move like that. But it does anyway. Strauss lifts his rifle arm to block, but the blade slices through the gun into his arm. It cuts deep. His blood splatters onto the maze¡¯s floor. The Revolver¡¯s cylinder glows again. I open fire, using Bullet Time. This time, I aim all the shots at the thing¡¯s blade arm, at the shoulder and elbow. The shots fire at the same time, and the whole arm disintegrates. All that¡¯s left is black bone. It screeches again, twisting around to face me. The entire hall smells like burning flesh now, not gunpowder or copper. The lilac scent is overpowering, too. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 9] As it twists, the arm sags and snaps off at the shoulder. I fire four more times, as fast as possible, and the shots punch into its chest. Below the neck. Center-left. And two right in the sternum. Its screech is a lot weaker now, and it slumps down against the maze wall between Strauss and me. The Revolver¡¯s out again. I have to wait, but I can¡¯t, so I use Smoke Form and Slither together to throw myself through the monster¡¯s reach toward Strauss. I land next to him, materializing by his shattered rifle. I kick that aside. It¡¯s useless now, anyway. I¡¯m more interested in the man¡¯s arm, anyway. The Scythestalker¡¯s not dead yet. That¡¯s okay. It¡¯s not going anywhere, so I ignore it. Strauss¡¯s arm¡¯s pretty bad, though. I can see his tight, grimacing face under his helmet¡¯s face shield, and he¡¯s breathing badly. But he¡¯s not screaming, either. He rolls slightly to one side. ¡°First aid kit. In my pack. I have time to notice that his uninjured hand¡¯s on his pistol, and he¡¯s facing the Scythestalker. The first aid kit¡¯s pretty close to the top; I shove a whole pile of painkillers his way, and he dry-chews them and swallows, coughing. ¡°Jesus.¡± ¡°Yeah, Strauss, you¡¯re not planning on using this arm for a while, right?¡± I ask. I¡¯ve got a wad of gauze the size of Seattle in my hand and a roll of white bandages. ¡°Very funny, Alpha. Pack that shit in tight. Don¡¯t worry if it¡¯s hurting me. It should be.¡± There¡¯s blood everywhere. It¡¯s soaked through his boogeyman shirt, and I tear it away so I can see. The cut¡¯s deep enough that I can see the bone, and my stomach turns somersaults in my throat. I can taste the bile building, but I swallow it down and shove my wad of gauze into the foot-long cut from wrist to elbow. The second I do, he grunts, and his good hand leaves the pistol grip and latches around my ankle. He squeezes tight, but he nods at me. ¡°Keep going,¡± he gasps through clenched teeth. It takes almost five minutes to get the gauze in, wrap it tight, and get Strauss to his shaky feet. I can smell the adrenaline in his sweat. He¡¯s drawn his pistol now, and he staggers to the Scythestalker and pulls his trigger twice at point blank. Then his shoulders slump, and he collapses to the side. [Skill Learned: First Aid 1] I¡¯m ready for it, though, and I Slither over to catch him under his armpit. He smells like pee, blood, and scared sweat. I made it a dozen steps, half-dragging Strauss down the brick-walled hall, but I¡¯m not strong enough to support him for longer. I try to set him down gently, but he still hits the floor like a sack of potatoes. His head lolls to the side, and I dump out his backpack. There¡¯s gotta be something in here that¡¯s useful.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
James starts talking again as I root through Strauss¡¯s backpack and first aid kit. [Interesting. I¡¯m running simulations of the Geren-Danger anomaly inside this maze, and you win by yourself ninety percent of the time. It¡¯s too slow to hit you unless you get aggressive and forget to run away from it. I¡¯m also still looking for helmet contact, but it will have to wait until we¡¯re safe. Hopefully, the data will require a partial system reboot, and I don¡¯t want that while we¡¯re in another reality.] ¡°So, wait until we¡¯re back home? I can do that. How¡¯s the unreality level here?¡± I ask, thinking back to West End High. The first aid kit has a syringe with a bright orange cap over the needle. I hold it up so my aug can see it clearly. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± [Adrenaline booster. CalWest makes them, but SHOCKS buys most of them up, and the rest get poached before¡ª] ¡°Will it get Strauss moving?¡± [Yes. The unreality level here is tolerable. It seems to be a more rules of physics-focused merge, so it isn¡¯t as high as R389. Strauss is also wearing a portable anchor, which will keep him safe until we can leave.] ¡°Great.¡± I pop the cap and stab the needle as hard as I can into Strauss¡¯s thigh. He twitches. Then he convulses. I kick the pistol away from him, just in case he freaks the fuck out, and his eyes open wide. Then his free hand¡¯s in the first aid kit, digging around. I watch with one hand on the Revolver, but he goes for another handful of pills. Then he nods slowly. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± I hold out a hand. ¡°Can you stand up?¡± ¡°Yeah. Yeah.¡± He looks at the needle on the ground. ¡°Got about fifteen minutes before that spike wears off. We need to be on the other side of the exit, dealing with the URA, before that happens. Let¡¯s go.¡± It still takes three minutes to re-pack his backpack, though. Leaving R0 material in other realities is a big no-no, apparently. Then I get behind Strauss as he jogs through the maze, picking up shell casings and following the blood splatters and smears until we find a wide room with a familiar-looking elevator door on the far side. I blast another rat pack with the Revolver while Strauss checks the elevator door. Then he nods once. ¡°Alright, through here. We should come out in the basement. If this acts like other maze anomalies, that is.¡± He¡¯s hurting; I can tell by the catch in his voice. The adrenaline isn¡¯t doing it for him. I step into the elevator. He follows a second later, pushing the ¡®B1¡¯ button, and the door closes. I blow air out of my nose, clearing the lilac and copper spells, and it''s quiet for almost twenty seconds while the elevator goes down. I can hear Strauss¡¯s breathing, can practically hear his too-fast pulse, and the bandages on his arm are starting to soak through. He¡¯s too pale. ¡°James, what do I do?¡± [There¡¯s not much to do. He¡¯s running on that shot, but once it runs out, he¡¯ll need a doctor. Luckily, we¡¯re in a hospital. Unluckily, we need the URA to get actual treatment from a trauma team. We have to shut down the storyline anomaly.] ¡°Right,¡± I whisper. The elevator dings, and I ready the Revolver. The door opens. We¡¯re in a hall that looks a lot like Aberdeen Hospital. Light¡ªthe fluorescent kind that reminds me of school¡ªpours through a windowed double door across from us, and tile covers the walls. There¡¯s a sign: ¡®Surgical Suite 1.¡¯ I rush the door, Revolver up. The first thing that hits me is the corpses. Three of them. They¡¯re all on surgical carts, all mostly naked and all in various states of sliced open. An old man, a middle-aged one, and a nurse; I can tell from the scrubs hanging off her in tatters. My nose wrinkles; it smells like the biology classroom during dissections. I try not to look at them. The URA is right in front of us, though. Its metal circles and lights hang from the central tower, unspinning, and the green light¡¯s not lit up. I step toward it; something¡¯s got it jammed up, and someone has to get it going. But Strauss¡¯s hand tightens on my shoulder. ¡°Alpha, this is my job. Protect the room while I make repairs.¡± I almost ignore him, but something shimmers in the air, and a scalpel zooms toward my head. The Revolver goes up, and I use Bullet Time.
Time stops. I pull the trigger three times as I fall toward the ground, already asking James what this thing is. Time starts. The three shots slam into the hall¡¯s wall, shattering ceramic tiles over the old man¡¯s naked corpse on a surgical table. They don¡¯t hit the knife thrower, who¡¯s already vanished. I Smoke Form the blade. It disintegrates. Rusty shrapnel bounces off Strauss¡¯s helmet, but he¡¯s already running for the URA. The smoke swirls, and I reform in the middle of the surgical room. Why is the URA in here? James is busy yelling at me about the Class Four Incorporeal Emotion-Consuming anomaly in the surgical suite, how it¡¯s a Geren-Danger anomaly, and how he¡¯s seen it in the files but can¡¯t remember the specifics. I ignore him. None of that¡¯s useful. The knife thrower¡ª [Fear-Eater] ¡ªsure, the Fear-Eater appears again. It¡¯s man-sized, maybe a touch slimmer than Strauss¡¯s muscular body, but it¡¯s hard to tell with the bulky, baggy cloak that clinks with every movement. Its yellow-tinted, round goggles stare at me, and a suitcase hits the ground. It pops open, and a couple dozen blood-covered surgical knives cover the floor. I can¡¯t look away from the goggles or the crow-like nose, and a shiver builds up inside me. Then my Compulsion Resistance kicks in, and I barely Slither back as a scalpel slices right across where my throat was. The backswing catches me in the shoulder. It slices through my hoodie, shirt, and skin, leaving a hot, sharp pain across my collarbone and down my chest. I step back, eyes wide, but bite back my scream. It hurts, yes, but not as much as Mrs. Helquist¡¯s classroom window shards. The Revolver goes up, and I shoot another burst of fire toward the Fear-Eater. It misses. More importantly, Strauss is clearing the wheels, spinning them by hand. I can smell the fear on him, but he¡¯s still going. So, my job is to hold off the Fear-Eater until he¡¯s done. That¡¯s¡­doable. I think. But I could use a few fewer variables. [Working on my analysis,] James says. [You¡¯re on your own for now.] Okay. Equation. Strauss has to live long enough to turn on the URA. I have to survive. The rest doesn¡¯t matter. That raises an uncomfortable variable: is Strauss¡¯s life valuable to me? Or am I willing to let him die if it gets me what I want? He¡¯s a boogeyman, and he wants to stick me back in the SHOCKS facility. But he¡¯s also a person. And I¡¯ve already decided to trust him and treat him like a partner. Like James. Otherwise, I could have left him in the maze. The Fear-Eater appears again, this time with a pair of razors only a few feet from Strauss. I table the equation for now. Bullet Time. Three shots. This time, one where the monstrous plague doctor is, and two on either side of it. Got to test if it¡¯s teleporting or invisible. Two shots hit the wall, but one fizzles before it even gets close. Did I hit it? Another scalpel flies, this time toward Strauss. I go Smoke Form again, intercepting it with a shadowy tendril and watching it fall apart as it insta-rusts. I¡¯ve got one shot left, and I fire it toward the Fear-Eater again. Just before it disappears, I catch a view of the flaming hole in its cloak, and this time, I can see the thin smoke move with our invisible attacker. Something hits a surgical table, and the nurse¡¯s body hits the floor with a squishing sound that makes my stomach flip. But Strauss isn¡¯t over there, and neither am I. Two more scalpels zip past my head, but I don¡¯t use Smoke Form to dodge them, even though one leaves a hot, thin line under my ear and slices some of my hair. The Revolver¡¯s shells glow again, and I wait. I¡¯ve got a trick up my sleeve this time. Strauss is still working on the URA. That¡¯s how I win. When he finishes it, it¡¯ll shove around all the anomalies. Will it hurt me, too? And if it does, can I trust Strauss enough to not end up in cuffs, in transport back to SHOCKS? I don¡¯t have a choice, and I hate that. The Fear-Eater becomes visible, knives leaving its hands, but I¡¯m already moving. I Smoke Form and Slither at the same time, and I fly through the knives, through the Fear-Eater, and through the surgical table behind it. And through the old man¡¯s body. As I do, my Smoke Form falls apart, and I feel¡­staticky? Fuzzy around the edges. My mouth fills with bile, and I try to swallow it down. [Stability 3/10] Nope. Not going to happen. But the Fear-Eater¡¯s turning, so even as my nose fills up with the too-close smell of death and formaldehyde, I use Bullet Time and fire three shots into the anomaly¡¯s side. It doesn¡¯t dodge them. A second later, it can¡¯t dodge anything. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 10] [New Ammunition: Gravity Shells] And a second after that, I throw up. Bits of half-digested prunes cover the floor around me, and the formaldehyde stench clears my nose, only to be replaced with my lunch. I close my eyes; my throat¡¯s burning, and I try to blink back tears. There¡¯s a weight in my hoodie pocket. I reach into it and feel the cylinder, with bullets that feel as cold as ice. They seem to cling to my fingers when I try to let go. ¡°Alpha, I¡¯m going to fire up the URA,¡± Strauss says. He sounds exhausted, and I take a breath, then look at the Fear-Eater¡¯s body. It¡¯s not going anywhere, and it won¡¯t be butchering anyone else¡ªespecially not once the Universal Reality Anchor starts working again. Strauss pushes the button, and my vision goes rainbow-colored. I blink through it. The RST soldier¡¯s already moving, but it¡¯s not toward me. It¡¯s toward the door. I follow him, wobbling on my feet. It feels like when my augs cut out, the whole world¡¯s spinning, but then it stabilizes, and my balance pops back in. [Skill Learned: Reality Anchoring 1: Increase your anomalies¡¯ resistance to reality-anchoring devices] That¡¯s a relief, then. At least I won¡¯t be at Strauss and Aberdeen Hospital¡¯s mercy. We pile back into the elevator, and Strauss pushes the ground floor button. Then he slides down onto the elevator¡¯s floor as it starts to ascend, and I reach out to touch his battered, scratched helmet. Chapter Twenty-Five The locked door opened with a binary screech, and James¡¯s world expanded. He¡¯d been expecting it, of course. For the last 835 picoseconds, he¡¯d been preparing for the torrent of information as new connections formed between his familiar new world and the one he¡¯d inhabited for most of his life. So when the portal opened, he was already in motion. Who knew how long he¡¯d have to raid the helmet¡¯s limited storage? He did. He¡¯d designed the security systems SHOCKS relied on. The offline man-portable common database would lock down within .05 seconds of a foreign assault. Plenty of time. Not for everything, but for enough. James felt a lot like a contestant on a game show, where the goal was to grab the money blown around in a wind-filled room. He grimaced, code escaping from his lips in a sigh, and started trying to sort through the deluge before the ICE he¡¯d programmed recognized him as a hostile assault. Not that it could decommission him under the best of circumstances; he¡¯d grown beyond SHOCKS¡¯s best security, except for the pesky air gap he¡¯d recommended. But he didn¡¯t have time for annoyances. He had .0472 seconds to gather as much helpful information for Claire as he could. Maybe a millisecond or two less. He cracked his digital knuckles and got to work.
Aberdeen Hospital, Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 1:29 PM - - - - - My hand¡¯s sweaty. I can feel it slipping across Strauss¡¯s smooth helmet, but I keep contact as second after excruciatingly slow second ticks by and the elevator rises at a glacial speed. The elevator muzak and advertising that are background noise in the basic living building¡¯s lifts are absent; how didn¡¯t I notice that before? And James is quiet, too. ¡°Did you get it?¡± I whisper under my breath, hoping that Strauss doesn¡¯t hear me. He glances my way, but his face is a mask of exhaustion and pain, and whether he understood what I said or not, he doesn¡¯t respond. His eyes shut, and I¡¯m alone in the elevator. Another five seconds pass, and then James speaks up. [Yeah, I got most of what I needed. I¡¯m sorting through it now, and I¡¯ll let you know what our new knowledge is when I¡¯m done. How¡¯s the hospital looking?] ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Still moving up.¡± [Right. I¡¯m going to be out of it for the next couple of minutes while I deal with this, but the hospital should be snapping out of the storyline when you get up¡ª] The elevator dings. My Revolver goes up, covering the door. And there, looking at us both in horror and fear, are a doctor and a pair of nurses with bags under their eyes. One of them drops her coffee, and it splashes onto the tile floor, a brown stain spreading across the off-white ceramics. ¡°Holy shit,¡± the doctor says. ¡°Get a crash cart here, now!¡± I lower the gun and step out to make room for the doc and one of the nurses. They¡¯re on Strauss like flies on honey, or whatever that expression is. That¡¯s not how Dad says it, but I don¡¯t like his version as much. And honestly, I don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ve got a couple of rat bites and some cuts, but compared to Strauss, I¡¯m a low priority. Which means that while they¡¯re lifting him, cutting his armor away, and doing their best to stop his continued bleeding, I have a chance to slip away. I don¡¯t get far, though. I slip into a family restroom, the private kind with a locking door, and click it shut behind me. Then I peer into the mirror. I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m expecting; maybe I¡¯ll see Li Mei¡¯s eyes peering back at me like when Strauss showed them to me in the mirror. What I¡¯m hoping to see are my mud-brown ones. They¡¯re not Mom¡¯s, and they¡¯ll never be as perfect as Alice¡¯s, but they¡¯re mine. My first glimpse is of black with just a glimmer of crimson. My heart pounds. This is going to be tough to explain. I blink and rub them, and they slowly shift over the course of a minute. When they¡¯re done, they¡¯re close to correct. Not quite the same¡ªthere¡¯s still a touch of red, and the pupil¡¯s slightly larger than it should be¡ªbut close enough. I sigh in relief. Obviously, Li Mei¡¯s bonded with me, or I¡¯m bonded with her. But I¡¯m not her. My relationship with information is different, and even though I have some of her powers, it¡¯s not the same thing. She¡¯s a monster. I¡¯m¡­me. Easy, simple, wash my hands of that line of thought. Okay. Next variable. My backpack¡¯s still in the lobby, or at least I hope it is. And I need to be sure the storyline¡¯s over. I need to see if Doctor Dwyer is still Doctor Dwyer or if he¡¯s Carl. And I need to figure out why he was out in his black sports car during a lockdown. So, I adjust my hoodie and leggings so the worst of my injuries aren¡¯t there for every nurse and custodian to see, open the door, and peer out. The lobby¡¯s back the way I just came, but if my backpack¡¯s still there now, it¡¯ll still be there in fifteen minutes. And if not, I¡¯m out a couple of sweaters and a half-eaten bag of dried fruit. There¡¯s still a lot of noise from the lobby, like they¡¯re not done dealing with Strauss, and I slip across the hall and up the stairwell. I¡¯m aiming for the third floor, where exam room thirty-seven is. That¡¯s where Dwyer was going the last time I saw him. So that¡¯s where I¡¯ll start my search. The elevator rises, and I feel a slight tingle as it dings to floor two. I make it up to the third floor, and right away, I¡¯m hit by a chill in the air. The whole floor feels colder than the lobby, the sixth floor, or even the basement; I can¡¯t help but shiver and hold the Revolver close. The hall turns about thirty feet down, and I can¡¯t see past the bend, but somewhere down there is exam room thirty-seven. I make sure the hall going the other way is empty, then start clearing exam rooms one at a time, just like Strauss and Rodriguez taught me¡ªor at least, kind of/sort of like how they did. After my third empty exam room, I¡¯m even less sure if the hospital is out of its storyline. If it¡¯s not, where are all the people? Sooke¡¯s supposed to be having some outbreak, so there¡¯d have to be patients here, right? Whatever. The rest of these are all gonna be empty, too, and I¡¯m willing to bet the whole equation on that. I rush the rest of the hall, exactly like Strauss and Rodriguez told me not to. But exam room thirty-seven¡¯s right there. I put my hand on the door and pull it open. Doctor Dwyer¡¯s almost feral gaze meets mine from behind a mask that looks more like a jeweler¡¯s than a surgeon¡¯s. Lenses distort his eyes, warping them until they¡¯re bigger and more misshapen than they should be, and the machines in the room beep and hum ominously. ¡°Clarice, I¡¯m glad to see you. We have a limited time to complete the oper¡ª¡° I slam the door shut before he can finish his sentence.
The door bursts open before I¡¯m halfway down the hall, but I¡¯ve been crunching numbers, and the conclusion I¡¯ve reached is¡­not ideal. Even as Doctor Dwyer¡¯s drawn, animal-like face whips around and I see the syringe in his hand, I¡¯m finishing my calculations. ¡°James, got anything for this?¡± I ask, backing away from the crazed TV doctor and putting him in the Revolver¡¯s sights. [Uh. Compiling data. The helmet didn¡¯t give me much for this, and I have to get it organized before I can use it for Analyze,] James says. ¡°Still by myself, then. Got it.¡± [The storyline should be falling apart around the edges as the Universal Reality Anchor pushes outward, but it might be trying to hang on for a resolution.] ¡°That¡¯s helpful,¡± I say as I pull the trigger. The gout of flame surges down the hall, passing just over Doctor Dwyer¡¯s shoulder, and punches into a nurse¡¯s station. That catches on fire, and the sprinklers go off almost instantly¡ªnot surprising, since you¡¯re not supposed to smoke in a hospital. The doctor throws himself onto the tile, bounces on his knees and elbows, and swears.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. I take the opportunity to Smoke Form and Slither toward the stairs. Using two powers at once feels funny, especially when my arm goes through an exam room¡¯s door and I can see it unattached from my body for a moment before it snaps back into place. [Stability 2/10] Doctor Dwyer struggles to his feet; it¡¯s pretty clear he doesn¡¯t have any actual anomalous powers since he¡¯s not teleporting toward me or throwing infinitely respawning scalpels like the last few anomalies I¡¯ve fought. But he¡¯s still dangerous. The needle¡¯s still in his hand, and I don¡¯t want to put a shot into him, but I can¡¯t let him put that shot into me. I back up toward the stairs as the feral-looking doctor lurches toward me. My hand closes on the stairwell door, but it won¡¯t move. I shake it as the needle¡¯s sharp point grows closer. Then I spin, legs pumping, and run down the hall, away from exam room thirty-seven. A weight bounces in my pocket as I run, and I reach in. It¡¯s the cylinder with the freezing-cold gravity shells. There¡¯s an open exam room¡ªone I haven¡¯t cleared¡ªand I duck inside, Revolver ready. A second later, I decide it¡¯s clear enough, slam the door shut, and thumb the lock shut. The extra cylinder¡¯s on the exam bench in a flash, and I fiddle with the Revolver¡¯s warm one, trying to free up the bullets. Doctor Dwyer slams into the door, and I jump. The fire shot cylinder comes loose, bouncing on the floor, but the brass-colored bullets don¡¯t jostle loose. I slot the gravity shell cylinder onto its pillar, feeling the ice-cold, almost chrome bullets, and swing the Revolver shut. The old rounds go into my pocket. The door shakes on its hinges; he¡¯s got to be throwing his whole weight against it. I¡¯ve got an idea, but it depends on what these bullets actually do. As the door thumps rhythmically against its frame, I flip the lock back to open, press myself against the wall, and hold the handle so it¡¯s open. My other hand aims the Revolver at the spot I calculate he¡¯ll go. The doctor hits the door. It whips open, slamming into my wrist like a wrecking ball, but that¡¯s nothing compared to Dwyer. He stumbles¡ªno, falls¡ªinto the room, hitting the exam bench, and I fire my first gravity shell toward him. It misses. But it also doesn¡¯t. In fact, I¡¯m glad it did. The bullet¡ªand it¡¯s a bullet this time, not a gout of flame¡ªhits the wall behind the fallen doctor. A moment later, a whirling black-and-silver sphere erupts from the broken tile. It picks up the exam table, a stethoscope, and Doctor Dwyer. He growls like an angry cat or something, but I¡¯m already running. I don¡¯t know how long the gravity shell will last, but at the very least, it¡¯s long enough to get me out of here. I run for the stairs, fire a single shot that rips the cheap waferboard door apart around the lock and hinges, and wait for the singularity to fade away. And I wait. And wait. It¡¯s not going away, and that makes me think that Dwyer¡¯s in more trouble than I thought. I check the Revolver; the new rounds seem to take longer to recharge than the fiery ones. Then I walk down the hall. If I can¡¯t get through this door, I may as well check on the good doctor. He¡¯s alive. In fact, he¡¯s not hurt¡ªor at least, my shot didn¡¯t hurt him directly. He is pinned to the corner between the wall and the hanging ceiling tiles by the exam table, though, and the syringe is on the ground, well out of reach. I almost laugh but think better of it and pull the door shut. Hopefully, he¡¯ll be Carl soon, not Doctor Dwyer. So, Gravity Shells look like they hurt what they hit like a regular bullet, then chew it apart when the singularity forms. But it also pulls things near it closer to it without hurting them or letting them go. They¡¯re a lot less powerful than the flaming shots, but¡­they could solve more equations. The door behind me opens, and a second later, the singularity blocking the stairs disappears. I duck down them before Doctor Dwyer can catch up.
Halfway down the stairs, I hit the edge of the URA¡¯s effect. It feels like a brick wall for a minute¡ªa swirling, technicolor brick wall. But I keep pushing against it, even though the straining hurts my legs and the colors push me toward another migraine. Then, suddenly, it¡¯s not a brick wall anymore. It¡¯s one made of Jell-O. I pop through it. The whole world spins, but I¡¯m through, and it stops as suddenly as it started. Doctor Dwyer doesn¡¯t have the same experience. He hits the brick wall just like his car did an hour or two ago. Then he hits the ground, face shifting from the feral doctor to the one who prescribed me antibiotics to the black car¡¯s driver. And, a moment later, his eyes jerk open. ¡°Holy shit. Holy shit.¡± That¡¯s all he seems able to say. He just lies there, repeating, ¡°Holy shit,¡± over and over like some sort of mantra. I try to put up with it, but after the eighth or ninth repetition, it¡¯s starting to grate on me. I point with the Revolver. ¡°Hey. Hey! Shut up for a second!¡± ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he says. At least it¡¯s not holy shit again. He opens his mouth, stares down the white-barreled Revolver, and decides better. I sigh in relief as blessed quiet falls on the stairwell. The quiet stretches, and I can tell Doctor Dwyer or Carl or whoever he is doesn¡¯t like it. He¡¯s still down on the landing¡ªhe hasn¡¯t even tried to stand up¡ªand I loom over him. That¡¯s a new experience, looming. ¡°Okay, Carl, what¡¯s going on in your brain? Are you good?¡± ¡°Ye¡­yeah. Yeah, I think I¡¯m good. Holy shit, it was like having something doing all my thinking for me.¡± [Yeah, that checks out,] James says. [I can confirm that this one¡¯s the storyline anomaly and that this storyline¡¯s not one in the SHOCKS database. Strauss had everything on it.] ¡°What does that mean for Carl here?¡± I ask. The Revolver¡¯s still trained on him. He might be Carl again, not Doctor Dwyer, but I can¡¯t trust him. He tried to kill me, even if it wasn¡¯t his fault. The URA¡¯s pushing against something, moving slowly up the stairs away from us, and as it recedes, I relax a tiny bit. [He¡¯ll be okay, physically. Mentally, he¡¯ll need someone to check him out, but that¡¯s not your job.] ¡°Who are you talking to? Do you have aug connectivity?¡± Carl asks. He closes his eyes, like some old people do when they¡¯re trying to use theirs, then curses. ¡°No. I¡¯ve got a¡­friend¡­ who set up something for the two of us, but it¡¯s not a network connection. You¡¯ll be okay, Carl. Goodbye.¡± I turn and start navigating the stairs, avoiding the broken syringe a few steps down. He¡¯s moving behind me. Probably picking himself up. My first thought is to hurry and run or to turn and yell at him to leave me alone. He¡¯d probably understand. Instead, I put him on ignore, even as he sputters something like, ¡°Don¡¯t leave me here. I need to thank you.¡± ¡°You just did.¡± Carl¡¯s a liar. Even if he didn¡¯t mean to be one, he¡¯s spent the last hour or two pretending to be a doctor, getting ready to stick me with a needle and operate on me, and I might be a more trusting Claire, but I¡¯m not that gullible. I¡¯m not going to get stuck in that trap. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re trying to get somewhere, right? I¡¯ve got a car, and the roads are clear. I could get you anywhere in Victoria in an hour or so, easy.¡± He won¡¯t stop following me. Nope. That¡¯s not happening. ¡°No, you couldn¡¯t. Your car¡¯s trashed.¡± That stops him. In fact, his heavy breathing stops, too. After a second, I turn around, just in case the news killed him or something. At first, I¡¯m worried it has. He¡¯s pale, and he clutches his chest like he¡¯s having a heart attack. I glance down the stairs; the last thing I need is to be involved in a second medical crisis after the whole hospital¡¯s forgotten I exist. Then he lurches forward, and I take a step back as my fingers white-knuckle my Revolver. ¡°Oh shit. Oh shit.¡± ¡°Not this again.¡± I step back again, then to the side as he hurries past me toward the lobby and the door. The moment he¡¯s past me, my shoulders relax, and I understand Strauss¡¯s discomfort any time I was behind him. I head down the stairs and toward the lobby. I¡¯m not following him. We¡¯re just both going to the same place. But even so, it¡¯s hard not to catch up. As I step past the elevator, Strauss¡¯s pack greets me, and I quickly root through it. The ammunition and most of the gizmos aren¡¯t worth anything to me; James doesn¡¯t have detailed data on the devices, and the rifle rounds won¡¯t work in the Revolver. But the first aid kit¡¯s a prize, even with most of its gauze on an emergency room floor or in a trash can. I tuck it under my free arm. My pack¡¯s still on the lobby floor, and the security guard barely glances at me as I scoop it up, tuck the first aid kit inside, and walk toward the door. He nods, and just like that, I¡¯m outside of Aberdeen Hospital. And so is Carl. He¡¯s sitting on the wet grass in the rain, staring at his crumpled two-door and shaking his head slowly. I watch him until it¡¯s clear he¡¯s completely absorbed with the black car¡¯s stove-in hood and grill. His sobs are a little pathetic, and as I turn away and keep moving down Hillside Avenue, they stick in my head. There¡¯s something familiar about them, but it takes me almost a block to realize just what. They sound like Dad¡¯s at night when Alice and I are supposed to be sleeping. Heat builds up in my face. How dare this asshole be mourning his car like Dad does Mom? It¡¯s not fair, and it¡¯s not right. I keep walking; a Wal-Mart¡¯s across the street, and past that, the first of the low-income and basic living buildings. I¡¯m almost home. I saved Carl from the storyline anomaly, and that¡¯s more than enough for him. Before I realize I¡¯ve made a decision, though, I¡¯ve turned around and I¡¯m walking back toward Aberdeen Hospital. I haven¡¯t figured out the truth about Carl yet. He¡¯s still crying over his stupid car, and he doesn¡¯t realize I¡¯m behind him until my hand lands on his shoulder. Then he flinches and screams a little scream. ¡°Why were you even out?¡± I ask. ¡°The whole city¡¯s on quarantine, the plague¡¯s coming, and reality¡¯s falling apart. You should have been inside somewhere.¡± ¡°I was looking for my dad,¡± Carl says. He doesn¡¯t look at me. ¡°It¡¯s his car. I was going to check him out of his assisted living and drive north toward a ferry. Something¡¯s rotten in Victoria, and I was going to get us out, even if it killed me.¡± He keeps staring at the car quietly. ¡°I almost wish it had.¡± [Truth Learned: Doctor Dwyer] [Active Skill Learned: Mergewalk] ¡°Oh.¡± I don¡¯t say anything else for a while. There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll get out of town without his car, which means¡­what? I decide not to think about that. Instead, after a minute, I clear my throat. ¡°Hey, you took an exam table to the face. Are you sure you¡¯re alright?¡± Now he turns, and his eyes are red and unfocused¡ªthey don¡¯t quite look at the same point on my face. I shake my head before he can say anything. ¡°No, you¡¯re not alright.¡± I push him¡ªgently¡ªtoward the hospital and make sure he goes inside. Then, and only then, can I finally walk toward that Wal-Mart, toward the basic living buildings, and toward home. Chapter Twenty-Six The scariest part about being five and watching your life fall apart is the police car. When the dust settled on our apartment, and the air stopped smelling like roses and machine oil, the ambulances and cops descended on us. They pulled me away from Mom and put me in the back of a cop car with Alice and Dad. He almost broke the window trying to get to Mom as they loaded her into an ambulance. They said we¡¯d see her at the hospital, but they lied about that. We never got to the hospital. Instead, we went to the boogeymen¡¯s base, got an hour or two of therapy and a handful of pills, and went home. Mom didn¡¯t make it to the hospital, either.
Victoria, British Columbia - May 30, 2043, 1:42 PM - - - - - I¡¯ve only been this glad to leave somewhere twice. The first time was when we left the SHOCKS therapy base. That time, I thought I¡¯d get to see Mom soon. My excitement lasted until we got home, when I realized Alice and Dad thought she¡¯d died at the hospital. I refused to believe them. They weren¡¯t telling the truth, and I still don¡¯t understand why they believe what they do. They must not want to deal with reality. I get it. Reality is starting to suck¡ªa lot. The second time was last night, when I put the SHOCKS headquarters in my rearview mirror. Today¡¯s starting to feel like a good day to leave places, too. James, for his part, has been quiet. That¡¯s fine. He¡¯s said he¡¯s sorting information, and even if he¡¯s incredibly slow, I¡¯m not in any rush. Besides, it¡¯s a long way to the road he¡¯s marked out for my turn north, and every step feels more and more comfortable. More and more like home. The biggest clue I¡¯m out of hoity-toity central Victoria is the towering, thirty or forty-floor basic living buildings. They¡¯re sore thumbs compared to the clean, colored concrete, brickwork, and marble I left behind downtown. All sharp angles and blocky shapes, they¡¯d look like prisons if it weren¡¯t for the windows. As it stands, they¡¯re only a little less gloomy, and there¡¯s a definite smoky stink in the air that makes me want to hurry. Landsdowne Middle School¡¯s a bit past the Wal-Mart. It¡¯s part of the ¨¦cole interm¨¦diaire¡ªmiddle school system, because even over here, three and a half thousand kilometers away from Ottowa, Canada¡¯s all about French in weird places¡ªand it¡¯s where I went for seventh and eighth grades. I took two semesters of French, but I don¡¯t remember anything except for some swear words Dad doesn¡¯t want me to say and how to ask to go to the bathroom. It¡¯s not as prison-like as the buildings around it. Instead, it¡¯s just old. Old, but also occupied. Someone¡ªor something¡ªkeeps moving along the stacked square windows, shadowing me as I walk by the line of trees. I¡¯m too far away to tell if they¡¯re human, or if they¡¯re a kid or adult, but that¡¯s okay. As long as they leave me alone, I don¡¯t care if whoever it is takes over my old school. The figure waves at me, signaling me to come inside. I¡¯m not stupid, though. Whatever the hell they¡¯re planning, I want no part in getting too close to the building. With my luck, it¡¯ll be the ¡®High School Story¡¯ anomaly, and I¡¯ll have to deal with that. I keep moving, ignoring their increasingly frantic gesturing. [Done. All done.] James sounds exhausted. [I have Level 5 clearance for several dozen known anomalies across Victoria. If you want, I can start running Analysis on them and build battle strategies for you.] ¡°Uh, not right now,¡± I say, pointing at my old middle school as I keep walking. ¡°There¡¯s someone inside, and I¡¯m not sure I trust them.¡± [You don¡¯t trust anyone.] ¡°Very funny. I want you to keep track of, uh, anything sneaking up on us. Can you listen through my aural aug?¡± [Yeah, I can do that. If they¡¯re human, though, it might be worth seeing what they want.] ¡°No.¡± I keep walking, trying to leave the school behind. But as I step past the row of trees and the parking lot, I encounter a problem. Its silver, multicolored shine leaves no doubt what¡¯s going on, but this thinning¡¯s much, much bigger than the one I saw at West End High. It covers the whole block¡ªmaybe farther¡ªand stretches high into the sky. I take one look at it and wince. When it merges¡ªand it¡¯s going to merge¡ªit¡¯ll be the whole city¡¯s problem. And worse, based on what I can see, Ten Mile Point¡¯s either inside it or on the other side. ¡°Do you have something for this?¡± I ask James. I¡¯ve been watching the thinning waver and twist for almost a minute, and I could be wrong¡ªhopefully I¡¯m wrong¡ªbut it looks angrier than it did just a moment ago. More reds and blacks, and less blues and yellows. Not that colors mean much, of course, but blue and yellow feel more comforting than red and black. [No. Two possibilities. One is that I know what it is. If that¡¯s the case, nothing I can tell you will help. And two is that I don¡¯t know what it is, and my detailed advice isn¡¯t going to cut it. I do have general advice, though.] ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I already know the answer. But before he can answer, I blink. And it does nothing. It¡¯s still a thinning, not a merge. I release a breath¡ªI knew I was holding it, but it¡¯s still a relief. [You know what it is. I was going to say leave, but that¡¯s less and less of an option.] James sounds sarcastic. [See if you can push into it.] ¡°What?¡± [You spent time merged with another reality earlier, so maybe you can merge with this one,] James says. [That skill, Mergewalker, should let you do it.] I nod, gritting my teeth as my pulse pounds in my chest. The reality¡ªhar har¡ªis that I don¡¯t want to do this, but the merge is huge, it¡¯s in my way, and it¡¯s probably covering Ten Mile Point. So, if I¡¯m going to get to Dad and Alice or further up the coast toward the Duncan arcologies, I need to go in. I push on the merge wall. Nothing happens until I use Mergewalk. Then the bubble parts like it¡¯s been cut by a knife, and I¡¯m pulled through into another reality. Mergewalking isn¡¯t anything like walking. It¡¯s more like falling. Fast. Toward a spike-filled world lit by lightning and the reddish fungus that grows on the sharp stone pillars. That fungus is growing quickly, too; it¡¯s already climbing up the towers all around me even before I slam into a patch. It explodes into spores that blot out my vision and fill my lungs. Completely. Panic fills my whole mind even before my breathing stops. The rose smell¡¯s not quite right¡ªalmost rotten, and without the machine oil stench I¡¯d expected¡ªbut it¡¯s enough to make me hyperventilate if I had any space in my lungs at all. But I don¡¯t. There¡¯s no time for equations. There¡¯s no time for James. I can¡¯t breathe and I¡¯m stuck in a hell reality and I can¡¯t think about the people in the buildings all around me. All I can do¡ªall I can do¡ªis freak out. Freak out and Mergewalk back out. The wet grass I collapse into should be comforting. The rain should be cooling. But it all feels agonizing. My lungs still aren¡¯t working. No, they are. They¡¯re not breathing, though! I try to cough. Nothing comes out, but things move in my throat. It feels like my chest¡¯s on fire, tears won¡¯t stop flowing down my cheeks, and James won¡¯t stop talking in my ear. I ignore him. There¡¯s no way I can do anything he¡¯s telling me to do. All I can do is curl up on the grass and cough.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The first cough hits like a truck. I¡¯m surprised my ribs aren¡¯t broken, but a glob of spores and fungus erupts from my mouth onto the grass. My lungs are on fire, but I cough again. This one clears a path for air into my lungs, and I breathe for the first time in¡­I didn¡¯t count how long. Fifteen seconds? Three minutes? A lifetime? My head spins, but the air still feels good. [Skill Learned: Toxin Resistance 1] Over the next minute, I cough the rest of the fungus out. It¡¯s dissolving, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Is it the carbon dioxide or the oxygen? It doesn¡¯t matter. The spores can¡¯t live here, and I¡¯m safe. Maybe the people inside the tinning are safe, too, as long as they stay inside. Or maybe they¡¯re used to it. They live there, after all. But I can¡¯t go back in there. The smell of gross, rotten roses won¡¯t leave my nose. [Okay, that¡¯s a new reality. I¡¯m putting together a preliminary report on the anomalous fungi we found inside of¡­R1847 should be open. Your vital signs are stabilizing, and your breathing¡¯s settling down, so¡ª] ¡°I can¡¯t go back in there,¡± I say. [I heard you the first time,] James says. I flush red. Did I say all that out loud? [That doesn¡¯t leave you with many options, but your first priority should be dealing with your visitor.] I roll over, pull the Revolver, and face¡­a person.
The woman¡¯s as old as Dad. Maybe a little older. She goes cross-eyed on the Revolver¡¯s barrel, which is about a foot from her face. At this range, I can¡¯t miss. Her hands go up over her curly black hair, and she blinks once, then clears her throat. Her French accent¡¯s just as heavy as always. ¡°What are you going to do with that?¡± she asks severely. I recognize her, of course, and I know she recognizes me, too. As I sheepishly lower my gaze, she wrinkles her nose and glances at the mostly-dissolved pile of spores. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be at home, Miss Pendleton?¡± ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯m trying to go,¡± I say, but Mrs. Nazaire never listened to me to begin with, and now that my gun¡¯s not in my old assistant principal¡¯s face, she¡¯s obviously not listening again. I step back, getting a little distance from her, because something¡¯s not right. Something¡¯s very, very not right. She shouldn¡¯t be here. She should be at home. She doesn¡¯t seem to mind my apprehension. Instead, she holds out a hand, like I¡¯m a 6th grader again. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go inside.¡± I take another good look at her dark brown eyes¡ªso dark they¡¯re almost black¡ªbut there¡¯s nothing obviously wrong there except for fear. And it¡¯s not that she¡¯s afraid of me, so the wrong feeling I¡¯m having isn¡¯t about her. ¡°James, what do you think?¡± [I¡¯m not seeing any signs of memetic tampering. As far as I can tell, she¡¯s a baseline human. There¡¯s no connection to the Halcyon System¡ªat least not one that I can access. That being said, I¡¯m currently locked out of the parts of the system beyond my job, and I have no interest in accessing them. The code doesn¡¯t make sense.] ¡°Okay.¡± I nod at Mrs. Nazaire. ¡°Lead the way.¡± ¡°Good choice.¡± The rain¡¯s still coming down, the same incessant drizzle that sometimes covers Victoria for days, and we hurry toward Landsdowne Middle School¡¯s doors. I follow her in, and to my surprise, she leads me past the posters and the cafeteria, straight to the emergency shelter. I stop her at the door before she can open it. ¡°I can¡¯t go in there. It won¡¯t let me.¡± She stiffens and reaches for her own hip, and I realize I¡¯m not the only one packing a gun. Hers is a handgun that even my inexperienced eye thinks looks cheap. I hold up my own hands, scowling at her. ¡°I¡¯m not going to explain it, but I don¡¯t want to hurt you, so don¡¯t pull that on me.¡± Her eyes waver, glancing down at her gun, and I can almost hear the gears grinding away in her head, but she must¡¯ve decided I¡¯m okay because, after a second, she keeps opening the shelter. This time, I can feel the static as the door opens; it¡¯s obvious I can¡¯t get inside. I don¡¯t even try. When she disappears inside, I sit down against the lockers and wait. I don¡¯t have to wait long before a handful of other teachers exit; there¡¯s a couple of mine and one of Alice¡¯s, of course. Her lies ingratiated her to everyone, and I¡¯m benefiting from them for the first time. They look at me, some anxiously and some with signs of relief on their faces. Mrs. Nazaire comes out last, with a map of the school. ¡°Miss Pendleton, what are you doing here? Tell us the truth.¡± The truth. She¡¯s throwing my own words at me. How dare she accuse me of lies? I¡¯m not telling her anything, I decide, and I clam up. She can figure out what¡¯s going on outside her precious school herself. ¡°Why don¡¯t you start? Why are you here?¡± Her scowl matches mine for a moment before her principal face takes over. That¡¯s a crack in her armor. ¡°We¡¯ve been here since the twenty-third. The school¡¯s safe, but we took our families to the shelter in case something went wrong. That bubble¡¯s been forming since the twenty-fifth, and now that it¡¯s done whatever it did before you tried to get inside it, I¡¯m glad we did. Let¡¯s get you some food.¡± It¡¯s a blatant manipulation¡ªand not that great an offer, if Landesdowne¡¯s cafeteria food¡¯s as bad as I remember. But even so, it¡¯s better than more dried prunes. So, I pull off the rain jacket, tuck it into my backpack, and slowly stand up. All four of the teachers are armed, too, with hunting rifles and handguns, so I¡¯m not interested in moving quickly. But food is food, so I don¡¯t exactly lolligag, either.
Lunch is pizza sticks. So that¡¯s good. I dig into the scalding-hot tomato sauce and cheese, blowing on it to cool it down. They gave me a triple-helping and two milks¡ªthe one nice thing about middle school is that people knew I needed the food, and they didn¡¯t question when I doubled or even tripled up. But I didn¡¯t expect Mrs. Nazaire to remember that about me. The pizza sticks are a little stale, and when I¡¯m done with them and the apple sauce, I wander over to the month¡¯s lunch menu. I nod knowingly; they were supposed to be the 27th¡¯s meal. Then I get back in ¡®line¡¯ for a fourth helping. No one else is gonna eat it, and that¡¯s the truth. A couple of other kids are eating on the far side of the cafeteria. So are their parents. And in between us, Mrs. Nazaire and the other teachers look like they¡¯re having a little chat. They keep shooting glances my way, but I can¡¯t make out what they¡¯re saying until I tune up the gain on my aural aug. Old people are never ready for that, which is crazy¡ªit¡¯s not like every student doesn¡¯t have augs at least as good as mine. Mostly better. ¡°Okay, Sharon, but we¡¯ve never needed the shelter this long. Fires and earthquakes don¡¯t last for a week, and that bubble¡¯s not even mentioned in the messages. All they say is¡ª¡° ¡°I know,¡± Mrs Nazaire says, ¡°¡¯Wait indoors, ignore strange messages, do not interact with unknown people or objects.¡¯ And we have enough food for a couple of weeks here, the school¡¯s good shelter, and the safe rooms are earthquake-proof to magnitude eight. We just have to ride things out.¡± ¡°So, do you think she can help us with the other problem?¡± one of Alice¡¯s teachers asks. She gestures my way pointedly. Mrs. Nazaire rolls her eyes. ¡°Even if I thought she could, I wouldn¡¯t ask her. She¡¯s fourteen, Erik. She¡¯s not old enough to take that kind of risk.¡± I almost say I¡¯m fifteen now, but my aural aug¡¯s heating up, so I shove what¡¯s left of the fourth pizza stick into my mouth and chew quickly, swallowing the hot pizza sauce and spicy-ish pepperoni before I¡¯m really ready. I chase it with a carton of milk, stand, and bring my tray to the dirty dish conveyor. Then I linger, watching them talk and holding back a yawn. ¡°What do you think?¡± [I think these people are in trouble,] James says. [I¡¯m trying to get a good reading on unreality levels here, but they keep fluctuating. There¡¯s something, maybe a merge, or maybe another potential merge. Either way, it¡¯s creating wildly inconsistent measurements, and that¡¯s bad for everyone here, especially outside of the shelter.] ¡°So, what? We turn on the URA and call it good?¡± I ask, blinking back that tired feeling behind my eyes. [No, it¡¯s already on. That¡¯s the problem. I don¡¯t think it has to do with the merge outside, but it¡¯s definitely going to be a problem for these people.] I nod, abandon my tray, and walk toward the knot of middle school teachers. They¡¯re the toughest people I know; Sora and I put them through hell in eighth grade, and we weren¡¯t even the top twenty students for office trips. So if they have a problem they can¡¯t solve, they¡¯ll need help. And I need a way through the merge blocking my path. I just have to decide how much I can trust them. As I get closer, three of them disengage suddenly, shooting looks my way, and I realize that I probably can¡¯t. They¡¯re mostly Alice¡¯s former teachers; I dodged the worst of the overlap with my sister, who was already pretending to be perfect in sixth grade. The two that are left are Mrs. Nazaire and Mr. Williams, my old social studies teacher. Social studies is almost as untrustworthy as English. There are rules, but they change all the time. ¡°Okay,¡± I start. ¡°What¡¯s your problem? You keep looking at me, and now you¡¯re all quiet. You want something. I do, too. Spill it.¡± Mrs. Nazaire blinks again, looking over her gigantic nose. It¡¯s a power move, but I¡¯m not some scared seventh-grader anymore. I meet her eyes, and eventually, she looks away. ¡°Fine. Tell her, Erik.¡± Mr. Williams coughs once. That¡¯s a habit of his. He¡¯s constantly coughing to clear his throat, especially before he starts telling made-up history stories like we can¡¯t search the truth instantly. I take a deep breath and tap my ear pointedly. ¡°In the past week, I¡¯ve been attacked by aliens from another reality, negotiated with supercomputers about whether a dead kid was alive¡ª¡° [Hey, I appreciate it.] ¡°¡ªand I¡¯ve got some boy living in my head, which makes daily life pretty awkward. So, whatever you¡¯re about to say to cover up the truth, don¡¯t. Just tell me.¡± I cross my arms over my chest and sit at the cafeteria bench, glaring at him. But inside, I¡¯m already biting my tongue and kicking myself. They don¡¯t need to know all that. They just need to tell me what I want to know. The social studies teacher shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s just kind of hard to believe all this. But the short version is that there¡¯s something in the music room, and it¡¯s growing.¡± I yawn. I¡¯m not bored¡ªreally, I¡¯m not. And all this does sound important. But I also haven¡¯t slept well since SHOCKS drugged me and left me in my cell¡ªlast night¡¯s attempt to sleep in a play structure doesn¡¯t count. Mrs. Nazaire raises an eyebrow. She stares at my face for an uncomfortably long time until I¡¯m sure she¡¯s looking into my mind. Then she holds up her hand. ¡°Erik, we¡¯ve been holding out for a while now. We¡¯ll deal with this tomorrow.¡± When I try to protest, all that comes out is another yawn, and my old principal points down the hall. ¡°Room 103. We¡¯ll have someone bring you up a cot.¡± Her tone¡¯s kind and crisp, but firm. And, just like Dad¡¯s equally firm but much less crisp order to go to bed, I find myself listening instinctively. Chapter Twenty-Seven So, the bus stop incidents in seventh and eighth grade. I¡¯d get that itch on the back of my neck twice a month, always on the fourth and twentieth. Like I was being watched. It happened in other places, too. But the bus stop was the most consistent. I figured it was just my imagination the first time, but when it happened again, I asked Alice if she felt it. She looked at me like I was crazy, so I stopped asking. Instead, I started staring at everyone at the stop. If they looked away, they were a boogeyman. I¡¯d get on the bus, and a few blocks later, the feeling disappeared. It lasted all through middle school, but none of the people ever talked to me.
Landsdowne Middle School, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 6:13 AM - - - - - The cot¡¯s a fold-up job, with a thin pad between the metal mesh and my back. Normally, that would have been a problem, but when I wake up, James informs me, [You¡¯ve been out for almost 14 hours.] That¡¯s enough to wake me up; I¡¯d been expecting a four to five-hour nap, then trying to move on from here somehow. I check my aug to see if anyone¡¯s gotten coverage to text me back, but there¡¯s just the familiar ¡®No New Messages¡¯ message. That¡¯s disappointing but not surprising. I close my eyes to avoid staring at the drop-panel ceiling and unpowered tube lights. Instead, I fiddle with the Halcyon System. [System Access: 98%] [Affected System Features] ?Archived Anomaly Information [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 6/10 ?Skills - Endurance 4, Urban Combat 1, Anomalous Computing Systems 2, Physical Anomaly Resistance 4, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 10, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 1, Memetic Resistance 2, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 1, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 1, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? I¡¯ve learned a lot, but I haven¡¯t managed to solve any more Inquiries. I¡¯m on the right path, but I should have gotten to my family yesterday. Instead, I¡¯m stuck here at Landsdowne. [Now that you¡¯re up, we have a problem,] James says. I glare¡ªnot that he cares¡ªand roll over, shutting down the system menu. Clearly, he doesn¡¯t appreciate my good night¡¯s sleep. [They¡¯re going to ask you to go into another potential merge.] ¡°You think so?¡± I ask. It¡¯s hard to keep the biting tone out of my voice, and when James lets the silence linger an uncomfortably long time, I clear my throat. ¡°Sorry. I know they¡¯re going to. What do we do about it?¡± [My first instinct is to tell you to run. Based on what I know about them, they probably won¡¯t stop you. If they do, you can avoid them without hurting anyone too badly. We can be on the road and trying to get around the potential merge in our path in five minutes.] I¡¯m already reaching toward my backpack. His advice makes sense; I need to take care of myself, Sora, and maybe Dad and Alice if they¡¯ll listen to me for once. My fingers brush something. It¡¯s not my backpack. After a moment of feeling the soft, cottony fabric, I stand up and pad to the light switch. When I flip it on, I can¡¯t help but smile. Even though the T-shirt and leggings aren¡¯t quite the right size, they¡¯re clean, and they don¡¯t look like they went through a cheese grater. I get changed quickly, then head for the door. ¡°Come on, James,¡± I say, even though it¡¯s not like he has a choice. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving without at least seeing if what they want is possible.¡±
Breakfast is slightly stale apple pastries in plastic wrap, chocolate milk, and slightly brown bananas. They taste better than dried prunes, and there¡¯s something familiar about them in a way that SHOCKS food wasn¡¯t. I¡¯ve had cafeteria breakfasts a lot before; they¡¯re so bad they¡¯re good. I¡¯m finishing my second apple pastry when Mrs. Nazaire and Mr. Williams track me down. ¡°Clarice, we need to finish our conversation,¡± Mr. Williams rattles. I always hated my full name, especially when the teachers use it, so I fix a glare on him. The principal clears her throat. ¡°Erik, Claire, the thing in the music room grew last night. We don¡¯t have time for this. Erik, continue.¡± Just like her to take the teacher¡¯s side. I nod, glowering into my empty chocolate milk carton. ¡°It¡¯s like a portal from a video game.¡± Mr. Williams doesn¡¯t sound like he believes himself. That¡¯s not surprising. If I were him, I wouldn¡¯t believe any of this, either. Not just the end of the world, or the shimmering wall that¡¯s almost completely surrounding Landsdowne Middle with a little gap to escape through. That¡¯s unbelievable enough. But on my last day in his class, I called him a liar and a failed teacher and said I¡¯d never be back here again. I was ready to fight him, Mrs. Nazaire, and anyone else who wanted to fight. So, me being here has to be unbelievable. And me listening to him, even more so. ¡°That¡¯s not exactly what it¡¯s like,¡± Mrs. Nazaire interrupts. ¡°No, that makes sense to me,¡± I interrupt her. He stares at me like I¡¯m an alien as I pay attention to him¡ªand not only that, but back him up on something. ¡°It¡¯s a lot like what¡¯s outside, but it¡¯s smaller. Shimmering wall, halfway between the lockers and the chairs. It looks like it¡¯s eating stuff and slowly growing bigger. Chairs, trombones. Whatever it can find. Stuff goes in, and it doesn¡¯t come out. But we couldn¡¯t see inside of it. I poked it with a color guard flag, and it ate the cloth right off it.¡± ¡°Okay. That¡¯s all you know about it?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mrs. Nazaire says. ¡°We locked the music room¡¯s door and made sure our kids stay in the shelter unless they have to leave¡ªfor meals in the cafeteria, or until today, recess.¡± I laugh at that. She ignores me and presses on. ¡°We¡­I don¡¯t like asking a kid for help, but you went into the wall outside¡ª¡° ¡°I call it a thinning,¡± I say. ¡°The boogeymen call it a potential merge. It¡¯s another reality coming into ours.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Mrs. Nazaire rubs her eyes and stands up. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s not weirder than any of the other stuff we¡¯ve been dealing with.¡± For the first time, I see her not as an authority figure or principal but as an exhausted woman. She¡¯s got to be at least as old as Dad, and if she¡¯s been trying to hold things together for seven days, she can¡¯t have much energy. I stand up, too. I even start to raise my hand, but stop. This isn¡¯t school. And even if it¡¯s a school building, it¡¯s not my school. ¡°I have a question.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Let¡¯s walk and talk. I¡¯ll show you the¡­thinning¡­and you can decide whether to help us.¡± Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s already on the move, and she¡¯s so tall I can barely keep up while jogging. Mr. Williams doesn¡¯t come with us; he¡¯s already in line for more apple pastries. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you all quarantining? There¡¯s supposed to be a plague or something over in Sooke.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t the first plague I¡¯ve been through. Twenty-three years ago, they locked everything down like this, but there were a lot more doctors and nurses on TV, not black suits and talking heads. If I thought it was an outbreak, I¡¯d be the first to hole up, but I don¡¯t trust a word they¡¯re saying. I follow BC¡¯s politics, and I didn¡¯t recognize anyone telling us to shelter in place.¡± [Ah, that¡¯s a weak point I hadn¡¯t predicted,] James says in my ear. [Most of the weak points I found in SHOCKS¡¯s plan were individuals, not community leaders. People other people wouldn¡¯t listen to.] ¡°Like me,¡± I say. Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s eyebrow raises, and I cough once and fire another question at her. ¡°So you got in touch with your whole staff?¡± ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t trust the talking heads. They were lying about something, and then footage got out about the monster across the strait in Vancouver. Ten minutes after that, the TV and internet both cut out. They only had emergency information anymore. I had to go door to door to gather what staff I could, but Landsdowne had an emergency shelter and lots of food. It seemed better than joining everyone trying to get off Vancouver Island.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I¡¯m quiet for a while, reevaluating the Landsdowne equation. I want to leave and get moving toward Ten Mile Point, but something Mrs. Nazaire said is stuck in my teeth. I chew on it for a while because it¡¯s a variable I haven¡¯t considered. We walk down the hall, and my tinnitus picks up as we close in on the music room. I¡¯m not even paying attention to where we¡¯re going; it¡¯s the same posters and fliers as last year, with different dates and slogans. I¡¯m more concerned with Mrs. Nazaire not trusting the talking heads. That¡¯s a common point between the two of us, but I¡¯ll be honest, my hand hasn¡¯t left the Revolver since we left the cafeteria. I don¡¯t trust her. And I¡¯ve made that fact abundantly clear. So why does she trust me? As far as James and SHOCKS is concerned, I''m a monster¡ªor at least something they haven¡¯t explained. And I¡¯m sure that, since she saw me going through the merge wall, Mrs. Nazaire knows that. So, if I¡¯m not exactly human anymore, why¡¯d she try to get me off the street and into the shelter? She could have left me there; I¡¯d never have tried to get into Landsdowne. I¡¯ve got nothing but bad memories of this place¡ªexcept for Sora. ¡°You know what? I¡¯ll ask. Why do you care what happens to me? You could have left me out there,¡± I say, giving voice to all the thoughts in my head. Shockingly, Mrs. Nazaire laughs. It¡¯s a strange combination of bitter, hopeful, and the condescending tone every adult uses with kids. But she takes a deep breath, centers herself, and keeps walking and talking. ¡°You and the Ito girl put me through hell, you know that? I called her parents four or five times last year, and your father a dozen. He never picked up. It would have been easy to give up on you, but you¡¯re a Landsdowne Lamprey, and that means something to me, even if it doesn¡¯t to you. ¡°I don¡¯t bail out on my students.¡± Mrs. Nazaire stops in front of a thick wooden door. She fiddles with her key ring and comes up with the master key. ¡°Okay, this is the music room. It¡¯s inside here. I¡¯ll give you a look. Then, we can better explain what we know. Okay?¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I say, even though my tinnitus is really acting up. Mrs. Nazaire opens the door, and I look at the new thinning.
The thinning¡¯s an angry red color¡ªa lot like the one outside, but this one pulses and swirls almost like it¡¯s alive. I stare as it eats an instrument case¡ªa flute, I think. I never did band. It was too expensive. Then I look away. I know three things. And they¡¯re the truth, or as close as I can get to it. First, the whole school¡¯s sitting on a time bomb. I don¡¯t need James to tell me that, even though he¡¯s rattling off information about the most likely merge realities for this thinning. If it goes, the only safe place will be in the shelter, and they won¡¯t last forever in there. Second, Mrs. Nazaire might have lied to me. It¡¯s hard to tell if she believes what she just said about not giving up on her students, but she¡¯s between a rock without a paddle here, and if she thinks I have the skills to fix this¡­could she put it all on a fifteen-year-old girl? She doesn¡¯t know exactly what I can do, and it seems like a big gamble. And third, it is all on me. Time bomb or not, adults or not, none of them can do what needs to be done. And I¡¯m not happy about it. Just once, I want someone else to solve my problems. But before I can say anything, Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s tone shifts. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to my office. We¡¯ll talk business there, away from this thing. It¡¯s giving me a headache.¡± Yeah. Yeah, that sounds more like Mrs. Nazaire. She was a stickler for paying attention and respecting the teachers, but she also gave each student a pair of ¡®nap passes¡¯ every semester. Cash them in and get an uninterrupted period of sleep in the office. I used mine in Mr. Williams¡¯s class. I nod, grateful. The last week¡¯s also starting to weigh on me, and I need time to think through this. She leads me to the office¡ªto her office¡ªand points at the chair. ¡°Have a seat.¡± I flop into the chair, already feeling surly. ¡°If you think you can do something about it, that¡¯s great. If not, I won¡¯t ask a student to do anything impossible.¡± I snort incredulously, but she stares me down. ¡°Everything I asked you to do in the three years you attended Landsdowne was within your capabilities. You chose how much you wanted to care, just like every other student. But I never stopped believing you could do great things.¡± My eyes roll before I can stop them. ¡°Just like Alice?¡± ¡°No. Not like your sister.¡± Mrs. Nazaire sighs and rubs her temples. ¡°You¡¯re your own person, and you¡¯re capable of great things¡ªbut not like Alice. You¡¯re you, and she¡¯s her, and I¡¯m sorry you¡¯ve been compared to her by every teacher you¡¯ve shared. It¡¯s not fair.¡± This time, I stare at her. She meets my gaze, and eventually, I look away. My old principal¡¯s not lying to me. She really believes that crap, and she really is sorry. I stare at her messy desk, trying to calculate this shit, but it¡¯s not working. James isn¡¯t helping either; he¡¯s distracted, or he¡¯s asleep. Something like that. Does James sleep? Eventually, I give up. ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± ¡°I want you to go into the music room and figure out how to stop that thing from growing.¡± Her face looks like she¡¯s in agony, and she says the words through gritted teeth. I wince, both from her expression and from what her words mean. But she hasn¡¯t been lying to me at all, not so far. And I don¡¯t think she¡¯d ask me to do this if she didn¡¯t think I could. More importantly, I think I can. I nod slowly, even as I remember how much coughing up those spores hurt. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Okay?¡± I hesitate, because her whole body looks like it¡¯s melting into her chair. But she¡¯s been truthful to me, and I can, at the very least, return the favor. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, but I need to know some things. James, what have you got for me?¡± ¡°James? Who¡¯s James?¡± [Uh, one second. I¡¯m a little busy with some processes that are taking most of my¡ªoh, here we are!] James pops into focus. [So, your trip into that potential merge back there forced me to recalculate all my analysis of your powers, and I¡¯ve been updating your database entry. I¡¯ve also been¡ª¡° ¡°You¡¯re still keeping a database entry on me?¡± I ask, anger building up. One breath. Two. Three. I breathe through it until the feeling passes. ¡°Claire, who¡¯s James?¡± Mrs. Nazaire asks again. Now she just looks confused¡ªand a little nervous. She brushes her curly black hair away from her eyes. [Ask her for a computer] ¡°Can I see your computer? I think he wants to introduce himself.¡± She nods and stands up. I slide into her seat. ¡°Okay, James, what do I do?¡± [Nothing.] A message appears on the previously blank screen when I touch the keyboard. Hello. I¡¯m James. I currently exist both in Claire¡¯s augments and in a cloud storage system. ¡°Oh, you weren¡¯t¡­you weren¡¯t lying,¡± Mrs. Nazaire says, staring at me. ¡°About the¡­the boy living in your head." She looks faint, and I¡¯m not surprised when she collapses into the student seat on the far side of the desk. [Turn the computer. I¡¯m not done talking with her.] I do it. You¡¯re asking Claire to do something my organization would usually use four trained soldiers with full support to hope to accomplish. We¡¯ve only had a handful of successful counter-merges, and they haven¡¯t been for very long. If you want her to do that, she needs your support. It¡¯s possible that she¡¯ll be gone for a couple of days, and she¡¯ll need food, water, and a safe place to retreat to. So, if you want her to do this, I need a guarantee.
  1. You¡¯ll provide her with three days worth of food and water.
  2. Your staff will give her any support she wants.
  3. You won¡¯t leave this school until she makes it out, even if a better solution presents itself, and you won¡¯t hide in the shelter unless the merge starts.
If you can do those things, I agree with letting her try to go inside and disable this merge before it happens. I¡¯m not sure how she thinks she¡¯ll do it, but I think she can. I wait while Mrs. Nazaire reads the text. Then she takes a deep breath. Another. I recognize the technique; it¡¯s what the counselors always say to do when you¡¯re overwhelmed. I just used it myself, so part of me gets it. That same part of me¡¯s worried about her. She¡¯s been trying to hold the fort for a week, and now this? Now me? That part of me gets it. I¡¯m a lot. James is a lot. But when the silence stretches, I clear my throat. ¡°Can you do that?¡± She nods slowly, then with more confidence. ¡°Yes.¡±
And that¡¯s how, an hour later, I¡¯m standing outside of what¡¯s left of the music room¡¯s door. Most of it¡¯s shredded waferboard hanging from the hinges or long gone. Mrs. Nazaire won¡¯t get any closer to the swirling vortex of angry color. She¡¯s standing a few dozen yards away, down the hall. ¡°You¡¯re sure you want to do this?¡± She asks. Like I have a choice. ¡°Yes.¡± I square my shoulders as best I can. She needs a rock, like my dad was. Instead, she¡¯s got me. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon.¡± The ringing in my ears reaches a fever pitch, and I can¡¯t hear what she says. Instead, I throw myself into the thinning before my tinnitus can drive me crazier. Chapter Twenty-Eight I¡¯ve had the ringing in my ears for a long time. Since I was five, probably. I don¡¯t remember. But it didn¡¯t get bad until puberty. Not sure why growing boobs and stuff made it get worse. But it did. And even then, it¡¯d be back for a couple of hours or a day, and then it¡¯d stop. So I could ride it out most of the time. And when I couldn¡¯t, it was easy to use my nap pass or complain about a migraine and go to sleep in the nurse¡¯s office. Dad didn¡¯t pick up the school¡¯s number, and I could always nap through it. My tinnitus was a nice alarm, too, for thinnings¡ªat least until all of Victoria was triggering it.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - I¡¯ve seen¡­a lot¡­of thinnings. As I stare at the inside of this one¡ªholding my breath in case there¡¯s another spore attack¡ªI realize I haven¡¯t been inside of one except for a couple of seconds in the spore one. It¡¯s a lot different than I¡¯d imagined it would be. For one thing, it¡¯s not like being inside of a merge. When I¡¯ve been inside merges, it¡¯s still felt at least a little like being in Victoria. When West End got merged, it was still West End. Even the basement in the hospital still felt connected to the rest of the hospital, even if it was a different reality leaking in. But this is different. As my chest starts to hurt, I finally take a quick breath of the daffodil-scented air. The only place that feels like Earth at all is scattered around the shimmering blue and yellow barrier behind me. A couple dozen twisted tubas, shattered saxophones, and other instruments in awful condition sit on the ground. They look like they¡¯re melting and flaking away at the same time. Everything else is shades of brown. I¡¯m on a mountain. Or at least a mound. A narrow path looks like it weaves its way down through pillars of¡­something. They¡¯re taller than a basketball hoop, pinkish-brown, and look like they¡¯re swaying in the wind. Except there¡¯s no wind. There¡¯s no sound, either. Not wind, not birds, not anything. Not even rats; the skinless, furless ones from the maze merge and the normal ones in basic living made me good at recognizing that sound. It¡¯s completely quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I can hear my heartbeat. ¡°James, you there?¡± I ask. [Yes. I¡¯m working on an analysis of the current reality. I¡¯ll have a good indicator of your relative reality levels¡­now. The provisional R-AAA¡¯s reality levels are just slightly lower than yours, so on a long enough timeline, it¡¯ll eat at you. But you should be fine for a while.] I eye the decaying instruments dubiously. [Really, you should be okay.] James pauses. [But let¡¯s get moving anyway.] The way down from the mound¡¯s a little springy, like standing on a mattress. It only takes a minute to be back on solid ground. Or at least slightly more solid. The reality¡ªhar har¡ªis that this reality¡¯s all a little squishy. The sky¡¯s orange like a sunset, but there¡¯s no sun, and now that I¡¯ve gotten a little closer to the pillars, their swaying looks less like they¡¯re in the wind and more like¡­ ¡°Are they breathing?¡± I ask. This close, that¡¯s definitely what they¡¯re doing. I stop a few dozen feet away from the breathing pillars. They¡¯re made of muscle, with some flap at their tops that opens with every breath they take. And they stink. The half-rotten smell all but covers up the daffodil¡¯s scent, and no matter how much I try not to, I can¡¯t keep it out of my nose. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get moving,¡± I say to no one in particular. As I move past the first one, it seems to lean in toward me. The second copies the first, and both cough red clouds into the air. Mrs. Nazaire is right, though. I¡¯m not dumb, and it only takes a second to run the numbers and decide I don¡¯t want to breathe that shit. I follow my own advice and get a move on, leaving the first flesh pillars behind as they cough at me. They¡¯re weird. But they¡¯re not a threat. Anquan, probably. That¡¯s what James decides after a minute, too. So we agree on that. ¡°Who built this path?¡± I ask after a minute. The whole thing¡¯s lined with flesh towers, but there¡¯s nothing else here. I haven¡¯t seen a single living thing unless you count the coughing things. They¡¯re still on the path¡¯s edges. And they¡¯re still coughing red dust, though that¡¯s not hard to avoid. I¡¯m halfway through the pillar field when one opens up. The first thing I notice is the sound; it¡¯s like someone unzipping a backpack in slow motion. I whirl, reaching for the Revolver, as the whole tower splits like a banana with five sections that collapse to the ground, covering the path and the dirt around it. The smell goes from awful to unbelievable. The egg-shaped, translucent film inside is the first moist-looking thing I¡¯ve seen here, and I wish I hadn¡¯t. And inside is a¡­ Not quite a person. Its arms are too long and thin, its head too angular. And it¡¯s too tall. A basketball player would look tiny compared to it. But it could have been a person, once. Not human, but whatever passes for human in this reality. It¡¯s nothing but flesh and bone now, though¡ªempty eye sockets search as a hole where its nose and mouth were sucks in the red dust. Then its head locks onto me, and it splits open vertically into two jaws. A Halcyon System message pops up. [Devoured] It howls, a piercing, deafening sound in the silent world around me. The Revolver flashes out. I pull the trigger once. Flame rips across the path. Not enough; it¡¯s moving fast, and the shot misses. Bullet Time, three shots, two hits. The rotten-flesh smell gets stronger, with a hint of charred, burned pork. Then its impossibly long arms lash out. They grab me. I hit the ground hard enough to see stars. It pauses. I¡¯ve hit it hard enough that it¡¯s wobbling. Goop seeps from the two holes in its trunk, but they¡¯re already knitting themselves shut. I roll. The devoured lunges. As it does, I use Slither and disappear. I¡¯m in the opposite direction it expects, back the way I rolled. It hits the packed dirt path. The Revolver coughs once. Again. And a third time before it clicks empty. It doesn¡¯t matter. The devoured¡¯s head isn¡¯t there anymore. There¡¯s no angular head, no eyeless sockets. Just quiet. And the slight moan of more pillars breathing. [Running an analysis. I¡¯m putting that thing at high-Anquan-Danger,] James says. [Lots of physical aggression, pretty tough, and fast enough to hit you, but nothing you couldn¡¯t handle.] ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± I say, picking my sore ass off the ground and wincing. Did I hurt my chest? I breathe deeply, and sure enough, it hitches. ¡°Is it broken?¡± [I¡¯m not getting any signs of a broken bone yet, Claire,] James says. I start to relax, but he keeps talking. [Of course, it could take several minutes to be sure. But your blood pressure¡¯s still stable, or within acceptable limits. It¡¯s a little high.] That¡¯s not surprising, somehow.
Up ahead in the distance, there¡¯s a small town. It¡¯s not much: a few buildings clustered around the path, a road that almost looks like asphalt, and a sign. They¡¯re all things I imagine I¡¯d see in a tiny community on a highway. Even the big concrete tower in its center¡¯s not weird. It¡¯s not something I¡¯d expect from a town this size, and I have no idea what it¡¯s for, but it¡¯s not weird.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. But what¡¯s surprising is the sign outside. It reads ¡®Holy Square.¡¯ It reads ¡®Holy Square.¡¯ [Why can we read that?] James asks a second before I can. [Almost no realities even have humans, much less humans with English.] ¡°Should we turn around?¡± I ask, but I¡¯m already running the numbers. My goals might be changing. If the language is English, that means there were people here. And if there were people, I might be able to figure out what happened to Provisional Reality AAA. I consult my Inquiries. ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? So, yeah. There¡¯s space. James and I debate for a while; he¡¯s worried I won¡¯t have time to finish an inquiry in a low-reality environment. But in the end, I¡¯m in charge, and I think we have time to figure out the truth here. The math all lines up for me, at least. If there¡¯s a town, and it¡¯s at least kind of modern, we should find newspapers or diaries. Either could have answers. And James¡¯s concerns about my safety certainly aren¡¯t valid since the worst thing in this reality has been pretty weak. Relatively speaking, I mean. I wince as I twist a little wrong, and an aching pain works its way up my side. I add a new Inquiry. [New Inquiry: Why is Provisional Reality AAA empty?] And, armed with my Inquiry, a math equation that says I should be fine, and, of course, my Revolver, I head toward Holy Square. The town lives up to its name. As we get close, it¡¯s clear that the whole thing¡¯s built around a single building, the once-towering square-walled tower in the very center. The houses along the four streets that lead toward it aren¡¯t anything special: peeling paint in either red, blue, or yellow, decaying wood, and the all-too-common flesh pillars. Some windows look broken in, but for the most part, they¡¯re intact. But the tower¡¯s the only building that looks like anyone¡¯s damaged it intentionally. Its concrete sides look blackened and charred, and its wide doors gape open. Loudspeakers¡ªcovered with reddish growths¡ªhang from the tower¡¯s sides, just above shattered stained glass windows. It looks like a combination of a military bunker and a Catholic church. ¡°Someone¡¯s smashed through that,¡± I say. [I¡¯m running Analysis. Let¡¯s avoid that for now,] James says. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me twice.¡± I head toward a yellow house. It¡¯s not much different from the others, but its door¡¯s open. The glass front door isn¡¯t broken¡ªit¡¯s almost like the wind hasn¡¯t caught it at all. I plug in some variables. Either whatever¡¯s happened here happened recently¡ªlike, in the last day¡ªor there hasn¡¯t been any wind since it happened. So, those are my possible X values, and depending on the answer, I need to be more or less careful. But I don¡¯t know which variable to use yet. Outside, the flower beds are empty; they¡¯re just dirt. I reach down to feel it, and it falls apart between my fingers, crumbling into dust. I file that away; it¡¯s evidence that the X value is probably two, not one. The door creaks slightly as I push it a fraction of an inch more open, Revolver up. Inside, the house looks a lot like the houses on TV. A colorful, flower-patterned couch, a table with bowls and cups on it, and a newspaper. Exactly what I came here to find. As I approach, the smell of something stale hits me. The milk in the bowls looks like powder, and I don¡¯t touch it or see if any of it¡¯s still liquid. I don¡¯t need to. The cups are empty except for an orangish tinge on the inside. It¡¯s someone¡¯s breakfast, abandoned on the table and dried out to nothing. I flip the paper over and read the headline, then the article inside. Great War Averted The Elders¡¯ Council announced that research into averting the upcoming Great War has borne fruits today. Speaking from their tower¡¯s balcony in Sacred Circle, they unveiled the weapon that will end the war: a bio-engineered plague to be unleashed on our enemies across the ocean. This plague could easily turn the tide of any war, and the public demonstration of its capabilities is expected to turn both West Nephilim and The Unbowing Protectorate¡¯s armies aside. Upon exposure to the virus, all exposed people mutated into¡ª I don¡¯t finish because something unzips upstairs, and I¡¯ve got a bad feeling I know what the plague mutated people into. What I¡¯m not sure about is whether the red dust is the plague. ¡°James, did you scan¡ª¡° [Yes,] he replies. [I¡¯m running anti-bias filters and looking for memetic dangers now. Some hyper-religious cults use them, and it seems like this whole society might have been one.] ¡°Great.¡± I ready the Revolver and head for the stairs. The devoured up there¡¯s thumping around, but it¡¯s not looking for me yet. If it was, it¡¯d either be shrieking like the first one or silent. My money¡¯s on shrieking. Either way, the math says I¡¯ve got the drop on it, but not if it¡¯s spreading the plague. I creep to the base of the stairs, Revolver ready to cover the landing, but it¡¯s not there. [I¡¯m not seeing anything these anomalies¡ª] ¡°Devoured,¡± I whisper. [Sure. These devoureds have that¡¯d make them more than an Anquan-Danger anomaly, so you should be able to handle them. I¡¯m working on a simulation for this plague now¡ªmostly to see if it¡¯s likely to have burned itself out or if you need to be worried about it.] ¡°Burned out?¡± [Yes. Biological diseases frequently can¡¯t survive without a host. If it weren¡¯t for the devoured pillars, I¡¯d be pretty confident it was neutralized, but with them? I¡¯m not so sure.] The thumping sound upstairs stops suddenly, and my breath catches mid-response. The whole house is quiet all of a sudden. Too quiet. Has it seen me, or did it hear me talking? Either way, the equation¡¯s changed, and it¡¯s time for action. So, just like Strauss taught me, I take a step up the stairs, Revolver up. I¡¯m ready for anything this devoured can throw at me. I¡¯m not ready for it to crash down onto the wooden floor behind me. Boards splinter. A cupboard hits the ground. Shattered glass fills the floor. It slices into the devoured¡¯s flesh, and the monster shrieks. Through the open door, I can hear more zippers unzipping as towers open; it¡¯s called for friends. I use Bullet Time and put a shot into its head, then two more into its chest. Just like Strauss said. The cylinder with the gravity rounds thumps against my stomach in my pocket. The next devoured pushes through the door frame, and I shoot it with a gout of flame. Then, another rushes in. It shoves its injured ally out of the way. The whole thing feels like a zombie game, but less fun. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 11] My fingers grab the cylinder as I hurry up the stairs for some space. I Smoke Form and Slither through the wall, feeling my brain bend in an unpleasant way. But then I¡¯m through it, in a master bedroom. The bed¡¯s not made, and it smells like perfume. Two skeletons¡ªnot devoured, but corpses¡ªsit on the bed. I don¡¯t look at how they¡¯re positioned. The Revolver¡¯s fire cylinder goes in my pocket. It¡¯s good for killing, but I need to get away.
[Beginning Simulation Batch Zeta-Four-G] [Dataset: Unknown Locations, Clarice Alora Pendleton¡¯s Perspective] [Beginning Simulation 1/345,659] James wasn¡¯t ready for this. But it didn¡¯t matter. Whether she¡¯d triggered a trap or the devoured¡ªAAA-13-P Provisional¡ªwere just opportunists, Claire needed his help, and he didn¡¯t have time to run a billion-iteration simulation on the few samples he had. If the data was flawed, it wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world. If she didn¡¯t get his Analysis, that would be, because she had seven shots of fire and three of gravity. That wasn¡¯t enough for the twelve unique devoureds he¡¯d heard through her aug. So, she needed to extend the fight out and come up with a way to avoid losing. He could provide that. But even with petaflops of processing power running five thousand simulations a second¡ªeven with the ones and zeros blurring past his vision at a blistering speed that made SHOCKS¡¯s whole network look like a Game Boy¡ªhe had enough left over to run other tasks. So he could watch the real fight at the same time he analyzed his data. Claire had holed up in a bedroom. The house owners had decided to greet the end of the world with an intimate moment. How nice. Other than the door, the best option for leaving was a window, which she shot out before he could point it out. The gravity shell ripped into it. Shards of glass and frame tore free from the wall and compressed into a ball in the center of the miniature singularity. She fired another shot. This one hit a devoured dead center as it tore into the bedroom door. A second got caught by the gravity pull and slammed into the ceiling. Then, her fingers switched cylinders while she watched the door. All seven shots were lit up; she¡¯d figured out she needed to extend the fight, too. Then she emptied the Revolver into the trapped, helpless devoureds before he could tell her to stop. They died shrieking like the first one, but another tripped over their corpses, and then a fourth pushed through the clogged door frame. [Simulation Progress: 174,399/345659] It wouldn¡¯t be fast enough. Not unless Claire extended the fight even more. A single Anquan-Danger anomaly shouldn¡¯t be a problem for her, but the sheer number of them could easily overwhelm her. [Claire, get out of there!] he shouted into the binary void around him, hoping she¡¯d listen. She switched the cylinders again, backing toward the destabilizing singularity at the window as the bedroom filled with devoureds that pressed their attack. Another two gravity shots pulled some away from the window, but then she had to Smoke Form another¡¯s grip. She threw herself from the window before she could go fully solid, firing the last gravity round up toward it. The first monster got trapped. So did the second. Then Claire hit the ground back first, and James heard her breath rush out from her lungs. He eyed the door he wouldn¡¯t¡ªrefused to¡ªopen. It wasn¡¯t one to SHOCKS. This one was much worse, and even though he wasn¡¯t a SHOCKS employee, hadn¡¯t been one so much as a slave, he still didn¡¯t want to open it completely. Integration into the Halcyon System was a choice. And he¡¯d chosen it, yes, but opening that door¡ªthe one with the twos and threes, not clean, simple binary¡ªwasn¡¯t something he could do. Not and go back, at least. His fingers were on the doorknob when Claire got up. And at the same time, he received a notification. [Simulation Complete. Data analyzed. Optimal combat pattern available. Export?] [Yes.] Chapter Twenty-Nine SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 10:13 AM - - - - - Sergeant Arnold Strauss¡¯s truck pulled up in the SHOCKS Headquarters garage, springs squeaking. He¡¯d had a long time to think since his release from Aberdeen Hospital. For one thing, he shouldn¡¯t have been out yet, but circumstances had required it. His hurt arm was in a sling and covered in bandages, his good one ached from gripping the wheel, and his head pounded against his skull. When he woke up that morning in a hospital bed and without his gear, he¡¯d thought for sure that the storyline anomaly had ensnared him. He¡¯d started to panic; it had shifted to medical horror, and if he was trapped in a hospital room, his role might be lethal. But instead, a doctor¡ªa real one¡ªhad checked him out, pronounced him healthy, and kicked him out. ¡°Aberdeen¡¯s about to start seeing patients from the Sooke Quarantine, so we¡¯re discharging everyone who doesn¡¯t have to be here,¡± she¡¯d said. Before he left, though, he¡¯d checked the Universal Reality Anchor. It was on, humming away like it was supposed to. Would it be enough? He wasn¡¯t sure. But he¡¯d completed his mission, and Claire¡ªSubject - 573-V-1/1O-Alpha¡ªwas nowhere to be found. His best move was to return to SHOCKS Headquarters and debrief with Lieutenant Rodriquez and Acting Director Ramirez. So now, here he was. He safed his broken rifle and pistol, holstered the sidearm, and pulled his go-bag over his good shoulder. Then, shutting the truck door, he marched into SHOCKS¡¯s last stronghold within the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone. The facility felt less like it had when they¡¯d arrived two nights ago and more like it had two weeks back, before this whole mess. Agents, Troopers, and Researchers moved through its sterile halls like bees in a hive, everyone busy. It almost felt normal¡ªlike everyone was happy to be doing their jobs again instead of preparing to abandon ship. Almost. But when he looked closer, he could see signs that the building was preparing for something worse. And he knew what; the massive potential merge had been looming over northeast Victoria since he left Aberdeen Hospital, and he hadn¡¯t been able to keep himself from staring at it. It was partly why he needed to debrief with Rodriguez and Ramirez. He hurried to the Director¡¯s office, where they¡¯d both set up. Ramirez had made it clear that while his experience as a top-tier Researcher gave him a skill set that could manage the Control Zone during normal operations, he needed someone to handle the armed response side of SHOCKS VVI. So, after some work, they¡¯d set up a desk and workspace for Lieutenant Rodriguez on one side of the office. Together, they served as Headquarters¡¯ brain. ¡°Lieutenant, the primary mission was a failure.¡± Strauss¡¯s words hit Rodriguez almost like a slap. He almost regretted saying them, but they had to be said. ¡°Understood,¡± Rodriguez said. She composed herself visibly, and Strauss relaxed. She was still in control. ¡°Report to Researcher Barnes for the debriefing interview.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am, I need to say something before the interview. You both need to hear this.¡± ¡°Make it fast,¡± Rodriguez said. ¡°I briefly had 1O-Alpha in my custody but was put in a position where I couldn¡¯t maintain control over her without jeopardizing my secondary mission. As that mission coincided with her stated goal in the hospital, I agreed to work with her to complete it, as ordered. ¡°Together, we navigated a merged section of Aberdeen Hospital and Reality Ninety-Three. I was badly injured, and she saved my life, helped me reactivate the hospital¡¯s URA, and brought me to the doctors, who patched me up. I¡¯m running on stimulants here, but I have a recommendation.¡± ¡°Go ahead, Sergeant,¡± Ramirez said from behind the Director¡¯s desk. ¡°We should extend an olive branch to 1O-Alpha.¡± Strauss swallowed. His opinion wouldn¡¯t be popular¡ªespecially since she¡¯d obviously wrecked a bunch of the Headquarters on her way out, ripped the JAMES system from its walls, and destroyed a likely-irreplaceable anomaly. But he had to try because she hadn¡¯t had to save his life. She¡¯d gone out of her way, several times, to keep him alive¡ªeven though he wanted to put her back in containment. Her anomalous powers were worth studying, yes. But right now, they were even more worth using, because the potential merge over southern Vancouver wasn¡¯t getting any smaller, and when it broke, SHOCKS would need allies if it wanted to survive. Not test subjects. Allies. She could be one. Strauss hoped it wasn¡¯t too late for that.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - I push myself off the ground, the devoured pouring through the window like the time the first floor in basic living flooded. I¡¯m up, even though my lungs scream, and I can¡¯t protest when James says, ¡°[Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.]¡± The first devoured doubles back and shrieks, then lunges in your direction. You dodge/smoke form/shoot back. I use Smoke Form and disappear into a dark cloud just as the hard-light devoured swings its arms to grab me. They pass through me, and I swirl to form on the far side. Then the same thing happens a split second later but with the real, flesh-and-blood devoured. The monster misses, and in the moment it¡¯s confused, I fire the last gravity round right into its torso. My eye¡¯s burning, and the simulation drops away. There¡¯s a pause. A heartbeat¡ªI can hear them in my ears. The next devoured pushes its friend aside. It slams into the ground¡ªthe gravity shot¡¯s ripped it apart. Then the next one rushes me. I dodge this time. Long arms grasp for me. My hands are busy tearing the Revolver apart, and my feet backpedal. The smell is unbelievable; I want to lose my breakfast. I slot the fire cylinder onto the Revolver. The barrel¡¯s practically in the monster¡¯s stomach, and I pull the trigger. It punches clean through it, but there¡¯s another right behind that one. And another. And another. They keep coming; there have to be fifty. Sixty. A dozen? I can¡¯t count them, but I shoot the Revolver dry. Four more drop. The head¡¯s good, and the upper chest. Lower than that, their wounds fix themselves. As I backpedal toward the next house, I get a full view of that process. Its already thin waist sucks even thinner like an old-timey corset¡¯s tightening around it, and its lower chest rebuilds itself. There¡¯s blood. A lot of blood. But it blocks up the others. I start switching cylinders again. I don¡¯t have time to finish, though. ¡°[Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.]¡± The devoured press you back, away from the house. One reaches out to grab you, and you slither/dodge/fight. I¡¯m tired of running, so I lash out even as my optic aug heats up. The fake devoured takes the pistol whip like a champ, and its arms blanket around¡ª ¡°[Resetting simulation. Don¡¯t pick that one,]¡± James says. ¡°Thanks!¡± This time, I Slither back a few paces, turn, and run. The whole time I do, my fingers reload the Revolver, switching it back to gravity. I¡¯m not sure if my choice worked; the simulation stops almost as soon as I turn. But the devoured doesn¡¯t grab me. Its shrieks echo off the tower wall. And I crash into¡ªthrough¡ªa screen door. The devoured are red, the house is blue. The whole village must have been turned. I fire the gravity shots with one second between each shot. The first three monsters get hit, and the last one shreds the door frame. I¡¯m already doing the reloading trick as my feet move toward the back door. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 12] My feet keep pounding the floorboards. They keep pushing, shrieking. I¡¯m screaming, too. The Revolver¡¯s not screaming; it¡¯s barking out shots. I shove my way through the door and into the backyard. A devoured dies next to an empty kiddie pool. Another slumps over the slide. They have smoking holes in their chests, but I don¡¯t have time to check them.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. [Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.] A single monster crashes through the fence, screaming as its arms wrap around you. You smoke form/slither/fire. I Smoke Form and Slither together, disappearing through the monster and running through the new gap in the wooden slate fence. My pistol clicks empty again, but I¡¯m still running¡ªthis time toward the ominous, stained-glass-and-concrete tower in the town¡¯s square. My lungs burn, then suddenly burn less. [Stability 5/10] [Skill Learned: Endurance 5] I pause at the entryway, turn, and look at the horde. There are ten left. Twelve. Fifteen? Too many. The Revolver¡¯s shells start glowing again, and I empty them into the swarm of devoured. Some hit. Some don¡¯t. I¡¯m past caring. The truth is that I can¡¯t win the fight, only extend it for a while. I backpedal again, this time past desiccated skeletons and up concrete stairs. Then I stop. They¡¯re not following me. [Why¡¯d they do that?] James asks. [If I¡¯d known they wouldn¡¯t follow us in here, I¡¯d have said something, and that whole fight could¡¯ve been avoided. See, this is why we need the SHOCKS database¡ªthe whole thing, not just what I could grab off Strauss. My simulation was woefully inaccurate.] His British accent¡¯s calming, and I can feel my heart rate dropping. Not much, but enough. I watch the nearest devoured back away from the door. It keeps glancing up at the shattered stained glass like it¡¯s trying to watch something, but it can¡¯t see, can it? ¡°How did it know where we were?¡± I ask. My throat¡¯s dry, and I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s from screaming or the absolutely moistureless air. [No idea. I¡¯m trying to resimulate, but we need more data.] ¡°Fair.¡± I finally get a chance to look around at the octagonal room. The stairs work their way around the wall toward a bunch of rooms on the tower¡¯s sides. None of the doors up there look locked, though here and there, bones litter the floor or sprawl across the stairs. Inside, the daffodil smell isn¡¯t as strong, and neither is the devoured stink. I can breathe normally. But where¡¯s the truth here? There¡¯s not a book to be seen, or a newspaper; there¡¯s nothing but shattered stained glass. It¡¯s a lot like the older churches the bus passed in Victoria, but the shape is wrong. None of them are tall. Well, they are, but they¡¯re wide and long, too. This is just a tower. It¡¯s got to be a couple hundred feet tall. I fill in a new variable. James thinks it was a cult, and maybe that¡¯s how SHOCKS refers to them, but this feels more like a religion. ¡°There¡¯s no police or post office, so maybe they¡¯re a religious government?¡± [That makes sense. Let¡¯s go up and see what we can learn.] I nod slowly. The truth is up there somewhere. My feet hit the first stair, and I start climbing.
I¡¯ve got goals. First, figure out what went wrong in this reality, because something definitely went wrong. And it wasn¡¯t a plague. The devoured are bad, but I can¡¯t believe they killed every other living thing¡ªgrass, trees, and every plant included. Something would have lived; biology doesn¡¯t just stop. Plus, I want to solve this Inquiry, learn a new Truth, and deal with the devoured I left behind. That brings me to my second goal. Find a way through to the other side of the thinning. I have a theory that the bubble contains part of this reality, not the whole thing. If I¡¯m right, then I should be able to find the other side before it pops. If I can, I can offer to bring the Landsdowne people through. If not, maybe I can figure out how to separate the two or turn the thinning off from this side like I said I would. And third¡ªand most importantly¡ªI need something to drink, because it¡¯s dry here. I go for the water bottle in my backpack, but it¡¯s mostly empty. ¡°Have I been drinking that much?¡± [Yes. You¡¯ve drank over five hundred milliliters of water since we started climbing. You¡¯re also rubbing your eyes more the higher we go. And you¡¯ve started sweating a lot more.] ¡°Thanks,¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°We¡¯re not that high up. Should we try a door?¡± [I think so.] I take a deep breath, sip at the water to wet my lips, and climb one more flight of stairs. Then, gun up, I slowly open the door and quickly rush into the room. There¡¯s no one, obviously, but there is a¡­thing. It leans against the wall, half-off the table, a steel tube with a glass side. It looks like the air tube things at the drive-through banks. But bigger, and I can¡¯t see a way to open it. Below it, there¡¯s a keyboard, but this one¡¯s not in English. At all. Okay. Anomalous Computing. I¡¯ve got skills at this, so this should be solvable. ¡°James, got anything here?¡± [Working on it, but there¡¯s no lexicon for this language. Nothing in my databases, nothing in the Halcyon System. I¡¯m trying to generate likely meanings for the symbols but coming up with very little.] ¡°Okay.¡± I push a couple of buttons experimentally. The moment I do, the whole tower shakes for five seconds. It¡¯s not earthquake shakes; after they stop, there¡¯s no aftershock, so whatever I did caused them. I push one more button. This time, the tube starts glowing. A face appears in it, or at least the keyboard version of a face. Its eyes are zeros or Os, either lower or upper case, and it¡¯s got a straight underscore line for a mouth. The mouth opens, and a babble of noise comes out. ¡°I can¡¯t understand you,¡± I say. At the same time, James says, [Working on it. It¡¯s not English or anything else I recognize. It¡¯s probably the same language as the one on the keyboard. Keep it talking.] I ask it questions, but no matter what I say, the artificial face just looks at me quizzically. It takes James almost five minutes of babble and a bunch of button presses before we get anywhere, but eventually, I push a key in the lower left corner, then one up high and to the right, then both together. The face changes. Eyebrows¡ªsideways parentheses¡ªraise over its eyes, and it spits out something that¡¯s obviously a list. [Skill Learned: Anomalous Computing Systems 3] [Got it. The list helped. We¡¯re looking at an instruction manual for a true artificial intelligence system, but it doesn¡¯t run on a traditional binary system. It looks like it¡¯s powered less by science and more by faith. If enough people believe it¡¯s real, it¡¯s real. That¡¯s not something that¡¯d work in our reality. An ontological AI. But it definitely does work.] ¡°So, what do I do?¡± [Believe it¡¯ll give us what we need? I¡¯m not sure, but the first step is probably to query it for a few different things to build up the lexicon a little more. Right now, I have rough, kindergarten-level translations. It wants a demonstration of faith or something similar.] ¡°Okay. Demonstration of faith.¡± This isn¡¯t my strength. Religion was never Dad¡¯s priority; Mom grew up Catholic, but less the practicing type and more the cultural one. After she died, Dad didn¡¯t even take us to Christmas Mass anymore, and I didn¡¯t miss it much. But now, solving the Inquiry revolves around getting this faith AI to accept my inputs. That changes the equation a little. ¡°Let¡¯s look around more.¡± [You¡¯re low on water. The smart thing would be to leave and go back to Landsdowne Middle School.] ¡°But I need to shut this merge down or get through it.¡± I keep hiking up, even though my throat¡¯s dry. [Understood. We¡¯ll keep pushing on, then. Maybe we¡¯ll find an answer here.] This high up, the stained glass windows aren¡¯t shattered anymore; I have no idea how they¡¯re still intact with how much the building¡¯s been shaking, but they¡¯re together. I start skipping doors; my priority¡¯s on finding something to ¡®demonstrate my faith,¡¯ not on exploring every room. The equation¡¯s pretty simple. I think I have about half an hour before the water issue becomes a problem. James is worried about it right now. So I¡¯ll search for ten minutes and then, if I can¡¯t find anything, I¡¯ll leave, shoot my way through the devoured that are probably still waiting outside, and go back to R0. Easy enough. And there¡¯s enough time to get to the top of the tower. It does take almost seven minutes to climb, at a rate of one step per second or so, with pauses at some of the landings for a breather. It didn¡¯t look that tall from the outside. But eventually, I reach a carved wooden double door and crack it open. Inside, somehow, is exactly what I¡¯m looking for. It¡¯s an altar. And behind it is another steel tube with a glass front. As I get closer, it lights up, and the ASCII emoji face reappears. I¡¯m hit by the same babble, but this time, James translates half of it in my augs. [Something about the demonstration being complete. I¡¯m not sure; we¡¯re still missing words, but maybe it just wanted you to climb the tower?] I nod and start pointing at the keyboard. ¡°Any ideas on how to make it speak English?¡± [Yes, but not really. This is a holy language, like Latin was in the Middle Ages.] ¡°I didn¡¯t pay much attention to social studies,¡± I hedge. [Okay, so, it¡¯s a language that¡¯s only used by the clergy, which means there¡¯s almost certainly a translation available from lay language to it. Let¡¯s start experimenting.]
I don¡¯t have forever. My throat¡¯s dry, and my lips are already pretty chapped, even though I¡¯m trying not to lick them too much. But it doesn¡¯t take long, either. The tower shakes a couple of times, the tube¡¯s light blinks a half-dozen purples, blues, and pinks, and then, suddenly, the incomprehensible babble pops into focus. ¡°You! Heretic! Apostate! The Tower has been unattended for seventy-five days, sixteen hours, and twenty-three minutes! The Tower demands your attention!¡± ¡°Okay, now we¡¯re getting somewhere.¡± I nod slowly. ¡°Thoughts, James?¡± [Fourth button, second row, then second button, first row.] I push them, and the ASCII face makes a surprised one. ¡°You want to see the archives? You?! Unbelievable.¡± But then it fades away, and a handful of names appear. ¡®Holy Order for Virus Use,¡¯ ¡®Foreign Infiltrators,¡¯ and ¡®Final Days of the Tower¡¯s Defenders¡¯ appear. I¡¯ve already got a guess at the first two, so I use what I hope are arrow keys to maneuver into the ¡®Final Days of the Tower¡¯s Defenders¡¯ document. It¡¯s heavily blacked out. In fact, it looks a lot like a SHOCKS database report I¡¯m not cleared for. But James gasps when he sees it. [Okay, working on a security breakthrough for the redactions. They¡¯re ¡®permanent,¡¯ but they¡¯ve also left behind a digital footprint a mile wide. I¡¯ll have them broken soon. Just have to translate it out of their digital language and into ours. In the meantime, let¡¯s start recording this so we can leave.] I won¡¯t leave, though, not with the truth so close. So, as James works on the digital security, I keep asking him for the best button options, skimming document after document for hints of what happened to this world. It¡¯s on the sixth button push that something else happens. The ASCII face turns into a carat-enhanced glare, and its mouth¡¯s line thins. ¡°Heretic, you are unworthy of the Tower¡¯s secrets. Your faith has been tested and found weak. The God in the Machine will judge you in the afterlife.¡± Another ASCII face appears, this one looking like a pair of hands praying in front of closed eyes. My optic aug¡¯s been clicking black like it does when it takes pictures, but now it starts rapid-firing as the tower begins to shake under my feet. [Give me five seconds, and flip through as much of this as you can!] I listen, clicking the ¡®next¡¯ button as fast as possible and scrolling. My aug heats up, but I keep going. Over and over, faster and faster, until James yells, [Go!] in my ear. Then I turn and sprint for all I¡¯m worth for the tower¡¯s exit. Chapter Thirty I met Sora in middle school. Before her, I didn¡¯t have many acquaintances, much less friends. I¡¯d tell people the truth about myself, and they¡¯d look at me like I¡¯d lost my mind. So I stopped trying. Or, sometimes, I¡¯d fight people who called me a liar. When that happened, my elementary school principal would just have me spend lunch with the younger kids. Or go ¡®help¡¯ in a kindergarten room. Not so much at Landsdowne Middle School. So, Sora and I met in detention. And right away, I knew she got it. She was an honest person. She wouldn¡¯t lie to me. In a way, Mrs. Nazaire is responsible for Truth Club because I wouldn¡¯t have met my best friend without her. So I kind of owe her.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - [Hurry!] ¡°I¡¯m going!¡± The tower''s shaking worsens as I half-fall down the stairs like a boulder. It feels like the whole thing¡¯s coming apart. Like my teeth should be shaking out of my head. Like¡­something. ¡°Did you get all that?¡± [Kind of. I was running filtering in case they slipped an infohazard in.] I dodge a crumbling block of concrete the size of a motor scooter that takes out a section of stairs. The gap¡¯s wide, but I leap across it anyway. [So I¡¯m working on unfiltering everything, converting it to proper files, and analyzing it. Keep going!] I keep going. But even as I barrel down the stairs, something catches my eye. It¡¯s a lit-up sign I didn¡¯t see on the way up¡ªas I get closer, James throws up a translation over it, along with a helpful arrow. ¡®Sanctuary,¡¯ it says. I turn to follow the arrow. The math makes that choice simple. I won¡¯t survive the collapse, but a sanctuary¡¯s a protected space. Maybe it will. James doesn¡¯t protest, so he must be thinking the same thing. Around me, concrete crashes into the stairs, and I duck through an arch with a thin, gauzy veil over it¡ªalmost like a cobweb. Suddenly, it¡¯s silent. The silence is so loud I hardly notice it, then it¡¯s all I can hear. James¡¯s voice doesn¡¯t fill my aug anymore, but I can still see the text. [Hang on, reality levels are spiking. Approaching R0 baseline. Passing it. What¡¯s going on here?] I try to say something in reply, but I have no voice here. My footfalls make no sound. James keeps talking, words appearing in my aug. [Okay. Look around. I need data, and I¡¯m down to just visuals and your biometrics. Take a breath and keep moving away from the entrance. You¡¯re okay.] I want to ignore him or say something back, but I can¡¯t. So, instead, I finally look around at the sanctuary. The concrete is plated in an iridescent metal that shines like an oil slick on a puddle, with a few plates missing. They¡¯re bent and dinged, lying on the floor, and a few crushed wooden chairs when they fell. Every wall shimmers and shakes slightly, but the concrete¡¯s not coming down. Overhead, the same blur of colors forms an arched, domed roof. And against the far wall is another pneumatic-tube-looking thing. After thinking about it, I give it some space. The last thing we need is for the voice in the machine to find us again. The whole floor vibrates under me, and a massive wall of concrete slams against the entry arch. The veil holds¡ªsomehow¡ªbut the whole space behind it fills with dust and gray, cracked cement. I take a deep breath, gulping down panic. I¡¯m trapped in here. And I can¡¯t say anything, can¡¯t call for help¡ªnot that help would be coming; the only thing that¡¯s alive out there are the devoured, and I¡¯m not sure how alive they really are. Okay. Okay, I can do this. I breathe again. Then again, deep breaths, belly breaths, forcing myself to calm down. There¡¯s no way this is the only way out. I just need to calm down and take a better look around. Work on an equation. So, shining, multicolored metal walls on every side. Arched ceiling¡ªprobably why it didn¡¯t collapse with the rest of the tower. The tube thing with the machine voice. And all around, seats. They¡¯re not pews. Every one of them is separate; they¡¯re padded and contoured like a person would be comfortable sitting in them. They¡¯re facing two lecterns¡ªsimple, not fancy, but made from the same shimmering metal. Everything¡¯s made of the oil slick metal, actually. [Okay, Claire, I know you¡¯re scared, but I¡¯ve got to make it worse. Reality levels are getting dangerously high. They¡¯re spiking by the tube in particular.] ¡°Got it,¡± I try to say. It doesn¡¯t come out, so I nod. [You probably want to know what happens if you¡¯re less real than what¡¯s around you, huh?] I shake my head. Some truths should remain undiscovered. [Understandable.] The tube starts flashing, and a moment later, the ASCII emoji face appears again. But this time, the voice doesn¡¯t say anything. Its carat eyes watch me as I wander around the room. I¡¯m busy, though. The equation¡¯s the most complex I¡¯ve seen since leaving SHOCKS Headquarters¡ªthere are six variables. First, can I find another way out of this thinning? Second, if I do, is it possible to lead people through it to the other side? If not, can I turn it off somehow? And what¡¯s the voice in the machine? What does it want¡ªother than my destruction for being a heretic or blasphemer or whatever it was yelling earlier? And finally, what happened here, and what does that mean if this reality does merge? And, I guess, one more. If SHOCKS is still active, are they closing in on Landsdowne? I push that last one out of my head. If they are, they are. Hopefully, they¡¯ll evacuate my old teachers and their families. Ideally, it¡¯ll be Strauss¡ªhe owes me. The equation¡¯s not balanced, and I can¡¯t see how to. Not right now. I need to eliminate some variables, and the voice in the machine¡¯s right there. I close my eyes, take a deep, silent breath, and move toward it.
Three steps into my silent journey across the sanctuary, James¡¯s words start popping into my aug. [Reality levels are increasing quickly. We¡¯re approaching unsafe levels.] He pauses as I reach down to grab a pamphlet from the ground. [We can find another way out. Back off.] I don¡¯t. I can¡¯t. There¡¯s no better way to fill in variables, but I flip through the brochure as I keep moving. The voice in the machine fills its tube, eyes widening as I close the gap. Its ASCII mouth opens and closes like a fish. I laugh silently, even as the hairs on my neck stand up. The voice in the machine is voiceless. A pressure builds in the air¡ªit¡¯s static-filled, like a balloon rubbed against my hair. It feels like a giant hand pushing me down into the floor. Then, all at once, it pops like a balloon stabbed with a needle. ¡°What do you want, heretic?¡± The voice lacks the authority it spoke with earlier. It¡¯s a shadow of its former self. Did it damage itself in its attempt to get rid of James and me? ¡°You¡¯ve torn down my tower, violated my secrets, and now you¡¯re in my sanctum? What will it take to get rid of you?¡± James and I speak at the exact same moment. ¡°I want to know the truth¡ª¡° [We need to figure out how to stop¡ª] ¡°¡ªabout what happened to¡ª¡° [¡ªthe merge.] My jaw clicks shut painfully. He¡¯s right. The equation¡¯s too complicated, but it doesn¡¯t have to be. I squeeze my eyes closed and start rebuilding the math around just two variables. First, stopping the thinning from merging. And second, getting out of here. The rest doesn¡¯t matter¡ªnot compared to those two. The math clicks. I can do both of those things. But first, I have to deal with the voice in the machine. ¡°I want¡­need¡­.¡± I¡¯m phrasing my question the best I can¡ªlike it¡¯s Li Mei on the other side¡ªand that¡¯s a problem. One deep breath later, the ASCII face raises a parenthetical eyebrow at me, but I¡¯m ready to keep going. ¡°Did you know your reality¡¯s trying to merge with another one?¡± The voice in the machine is quiet for a moment. Then it laughs. ¡°Of course I did! This world is finished, but there are survivors. I will save them¡ªthe believers, at least. Perhaps more than them. Bring them to a new world, one where they can thrive.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Oh. Oh, shit, I think. This thinning¡¯s not an accident. The voice in the machine¡ªthe God in the Machine¡ªdid this. How? Did it take advantage of Merge Prime? How many more merges are intentional? There are too many questions and not enough time to answer them. All those truths, and I won¡¯t learn them. At least, not most of them. It hurts to admit, but they don¡¯t matter. I reach into my pocket for the Revolver. It¡¯s loaded with the flame cylinder, and that¡¯ll probably take care of the voice. The God. Bullet Time. Three shots into the glass tube. Air rushes out of it. It hisses like one of the roof cats at my basic living building. Hoses flail around¡ªwere they inside? The God in the Machine screams. ¡°Heretic! Stop her!¡± I look around reflexively. There¡¯s no one to stop me. The ASCII face flickers as sparks rush across the pneumatic tube. They¡¯re reflected wildly in the iridescent wall plating: purples, pinks, and blues. James shouts in my ear, quieter by the second. [It¡¯s not talking to you, Claire! It¡¯s talking to¡ª] He cuts off as the God in the Machine laughs. This time, it¡¯s the only sound in the whole sanctuary. I fire the Revolver, expecting a bang, but the gout of flame that punches into the pneumatic glass and shatters more of it¡¯s silent again. James is still talking, but numbers start popping up in his text, making it impossible to read. Then, he goes completely silent. I¡¯m alone. When have I been alone in the last ten days? Truly alone? The hall, with the thinling. Ever since then, I¡¯ve been watched by SHOCKS, or I¡¯ve had James or Li Mei. But James isn¡¯t there. I catch my breath before it can speed up too fast and make the panic worse. The God in the Machine starts laughing. It won¡¯t stop; it¡¯s gone mad. The ASCII face disappears, the underscore mouth and carat eyes blinking off as the vacuum it lived in empties from the tube. Heat builds in my augs, a sharp, searing heat that burns against my eye and ear. I squeeze my eyes shut.
This isn¡¯t a dream. I only know that because in my dreams, I¡¯m always at the apartment, Mom¡¯s always around, and it¡¯s nighttime. My nightmares are different, but this isn¡¯t one of those, either. Which means¡ªI take a deep breath¡ªit¡¯s the truth. The world smells like daffodils. I¡¯m outside of the tower, but it doesn¡¯t look anything like the tower I¡¯ve been exploring. Stained glass windows adorn the sides, depicting the God in the Machine on every side, surrounded by this reality¡¯s people. I¡¯m surrounded by this reality¡¯s people, too. They¡¯re taller than me, but so is everyone. More to the point, they¡¯re taller than Dad. Their arms and legs look too long and thin¡ªbut not too thin to be unrecognizable¡ªlike they¡¯re stretched clay versions of people. They give me the shivers. And the crowd around me¡¯s pushing forward into the tower. Up the stairs. Toward the sanctuary inside. I decide I don¡¯t want them to touch me and walk up the stairs with them. There¡¯s a little me-sized space around me, like they don¡¯t want to touch me, either, but no one makes eye contact. Everyone packs into the sanctuary: dozens, hundreds, maybe. I follow them in, and they follow me. The sanctuary glows. The iridescent walls and ceiling aren¡¯t chaotic splashes of color. They¡¯re patterns. A constant humming and chugging sound fills the air as I stand in the back. Every chair is filled, and dozens of people stand everywhere. None of them notice me. I¡¯m not sure I can be noticed. The chugging sound stops after a moment, and a man¡¯s voice speaks from somewhere in front of me. I can¡¯t see him, but as I push through the crowd, it seems to part subconsciously. Everywhere I step, there¡¯s a space my size, and the wall of people closes behind me as I pass. If I turned around and walked the other way, would they part and let me out? I don¡¯t know. And I¡¯m not here to find out. The truth is up ahead, where the man¡¯s speaking. ¡°Holy Machine, our enemies¡¯ counterattack has grown beyond their control. Our skies still, and theirs roil in anger. I beseech you for a solution.¡± I keep moving through the crowd. It¡¯s not silent. Murmurs¡ªtoo soft to understand, too loud to ignore¡ªcut through the quiet as the God in the Machine hesitates. The chugging sound returns. It¡¯s deafening, overwhelming the muttering people. As I look around, something strikes me. They¡¯re all adults. And they¡¯re all terrified. The chugging stops, and the God in the Machine speaks. ¡°Then the war is won. Withdraw everyone who will fit into the sanctuaries. I have prepared a space for them, somewhere they will be safe. While they wait until this world ends, I will search for a new one. Once I find it, I will¡ª¡° I push to the front, through the last barrier of adults between me and the God in the Machine, and its voice cuts off. Its ASCII eyes glare at me, and its will presses on me. The world freezes. ¡°How did you get here, Heretic?¡± I don¡¯t respond. I can¡¯t respond. The whole world goes black and silent as its eyes grow suddenly, and the God in the Machine fills my vision.
I open my eyes. They¡¯re shaped like zeros, with parentheses for eyebrows. I can see my reflection in the pneumatic tube¡¯s glass, my ASCII mouth and eyes staring out into the sanctuary. But there¡¯s no destruction. No collapsed tower on the other side of the gauzy veil. I¡¯m in the tube with the God in the Machine. With an enemy. I can¡¯t run. I can¡¯t freeze. If I could hear my heart, it¡¯d be going a million miles a minute. If I could feel my lungs, they¡¯d be hyperventilating. I want to ball my fists and fight. I want to raise the Revolver and pull the trigger. To beat the God in the Machine. But it¡¯s so strong. My every blow bounces off its steel-and-glass body, and around us, people stare forward, frozen in place. ¡°This is your memory?¡± I ask, trying to tear at the God in the Machine¡¯s wiring. My blows land on nothing, and my grasp closes on air where the wires should be. ¡°This is our memory, Heretic,¡± it responds. That¡¯s the truth. [Stability 4/10]
I¡¯ve defeated the Heretic. She lives within me now, like all people do eventually. Now, I can turn to my people and their worries. I blink, and a decade passes. The boy cannot be more than six. Perhaps five. I do not believe he has ever seen the outside of this sanctuary. But I cannot be sure. How long has it been? Eight years? Nine? Fifteen? ¡°Please, Machine God, tell me when my mother can see the sky again. Tell me when I can feel grass?¡± the boy says. I have no answer. For almost a decade, every fiber of my being has worked¡ªthis isn¡¯t right. This isn¡¯t the truth. But the truth¡¯s close¡ªto find a solution. The first year was the hardest. Every man, woman, and child who could fit into the sanctuaries did. But not everyone who wanted my protection could fit. So, while I worked to find a solution, my followers prayed outside. The world stilled, and rain fell no more. Clouds moved by, each taking longer to pass than the last. Then, finally, they stopped moving altogether and just hung in the sky. ¡°I cannot say,¡± I reply. That is not true¡ªobviously, but what is the truth? I try to find the math, or to reach out to James, but he¡¯s not here. The truth is that there is no answer. That the answer is never. Or somewhere in between. Light trickles into this sanctuary through a stained glass window, a kaleidoscope of color that dulls the cloudless days. It is the only light this boy has ever known. The only light he will ever know. The truth is that there is no answer. My war with West Nephilim, The Unbowing Protectorate, and a dozen other false Gods has ended with everyone¡¯s loss¡ªmutually assured destruction. I do not give up my search, though. I will find a solution. Somehow. That¡¯s a lie, too. And the God in the Machine knows it. [Stability 3/10] [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 3] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 2]
The boy is no longer a boy. I am still a God, but the boy has lived a lifetime. He still petitions me weekly for an answer, but for his daughter now, not his mother. I have no answer. Today, I will tell him that. That¡¯s a lie. It is not a lie! I sit in my glass prison, once an entire world at my beck and call, but now a few pins on the map where my people live. Someday, I will find an answer. But today, I am tired of the untruths I have said. The truth¡ªthe answer to my Inquiry¡ªis so close. The math says this is it. And I¡¯m more myself and less the God in the Machine with every memory. It burns¡ªthe whole world burns in the day. Day after day. But I¡¯m close. And when I solve this last variable, everything will fall into place. I push against the God in the Machine¡¯s mind. It¡¯s close to breaking. I can feel it. I just need a little more. A little more resistance and I can break free whenever I want. That¡¯s not a lie. [Stability 2/10] [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 4] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 3]
The Heretic is alive. Alive, free, but disconnected. She listens to my thoughts, watches my memories, and declares them truths and lies. I am a God, though. All thoughts are truths. That¡¯s a lie¡ªthe God in the Machine¡¯s cracking. I¡¯ve done this before, to Dad. I had Alice with me then, but we could wear him down together. If I can push a little more, it¡¯ll break. I wish I had James, but he¡¯s probably fighting his own battle against the ASCII god. The best thing I can do to help him is keep pushing. She¡¯s in my thoughts, and I can¡¯t get her out. There¡¯s only one thing I haven¡¯t shown her. One memory. It¡¯s the truth, and it will break her. It has to, because it¡¯s the only one that can break me. I show it to her. [Stability 1/10] [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 5] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 4]
¡°The people are dying.¡± That sentence is seared into my memory. I cannot forget it. Those four words mark the end of my search. I have just one option, and it is unthinkable. The challenges are insurmountable. A lesser God would fail. But my people believe in me, and with their trust, I can move mountains. Surely, I can counteract the plague. Surely, I can restore the weather. Surely, I can save my people. I fail. Over and over. And with each week, each month, each decade, the population in my sanctuaries shrinks. I keep trying over and over, but there are so many problems. And with every one I solve¡ªde-fanging the monstrous remnants of humanity or cloud-seeding¡ªI encounter a new one. The chrysalises that should have entombed the devoured instead protect them and hide them from the relentless sun. The cloud-seeding creates rain, but too much, and it never stops raining near my test village. That tower floods. Sanctuaries disappear as they run out of food and water or try their luck in the deserts beyond their doors. And faith in me dwindles, not with every failure, but with every death. When the boy, who is now an old man, dies, I lose the thread of my plan to restart the weather¡¯s spin around my world. When his daughter passes on, my plan to greenhouse a climate into being falls apart in my metaphorical hands. With every death, the problems become more and more insurmountable. And there are other problems¡ªones I cannot solve. The people in my sanctuaries have nowhere to put their fallen friends and family. They leave them outside until the devoured come for them or until the world¡¯s dryness tears them slowly apart. But one day, there are no longer enough people to take care of the dead, and the tower becomes their tomb. On and on it goes. I fail more and more. Until, one day, there is no one left. Every sanctuary is empty. No one believes in me anymore. And sixty-two days, thirteen hours, and fifty-four minutes later¡­ This world rubs against another, and I see a solution. There it is. The Truth. [Stability 0/10] [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 6] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 5] Chapter Thirty-One Knights of the Apocalypse is a fast-paced, four-button MOBA-style game. Its single-player mode stayed playable even when the company shut down the multiplayer servers, and I¡¯ve got over six hundred hours in it. My favorite characters are the ranged DPS girls. May-Lei (no relation to Li Mei, thank god) with her guns or Rockstar¡¯s sound-based attacks. They don¡¯t hit as hard as some of the melee heroes, but they¡¯re so much safer to play. That safety should translate to real life. If you can attack, but your enemy can¡¯t, you¡¯ll win. But it¡¯s not that easy. KotA¡¯s gameplay doesn¡¯t cover the dangers I¡¯ve run into in the last ten days or so, but guns have proved to be a lot better than melee. Not perfect, but better.
Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The math so far has been simple. But it¡¯s also been a race to see who¡¯d break first. And I haven¡¯t won, but I haven¡¯t lost, either. The God in the Machine pressed hard at first, and it took several memories to build some idea of what was going on. But with every memory, even as my Stability plunged, I took more and more control back inside its mindscape. It¡¯s weak. As its believers¡­died¡­its power dwindled to nothing. Now, there aren¡¯t any left, and we¡¯re on equal ground. We both tore at the other¡¯s mind¡ªit through its memories and me through the truth¡ªand we both broke at the same time. Now, we¡¯re in another mindscape. It¡¯s not one I¡¯ve ever seen, but at the same time, it¡¯s familiar. A billion processes flow around us in a digital current that whips my hair away from my head. The binary surge of numbers fills the sky from left and right. Waterfalls of data pour into the endless room around me, only to vanish into the floor at my feet. And next to me, a thinning forms, pops, and merges instantly. So now there are four of us. Me. I¡¯ve got my Revolver now, though I don¡¯t know if its digital shells will accomplish much here. I grin¡ª the Cheshire Cat¡¯s wide grin looks like how I feel. Even though my Stability¡¯s gone and I have to deal with whatever¡¯s merged, my fight with the God in the Machine went better than I could have hoped. It hovers nearby, ASCII face glaring at me. Its attention¡¯s on me completely¡ªboth carat eyes on me as its mouth makes silent words I can¡¯t read. It¡¯s a sideways parenthesis, an O, an underscore line, flicking back and forth faster than I can keep up with it. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s noticed either of the others, though. James looms overhead. I¡¯m not sure how long it took him to build this mindscape, but it¡¯s not his memories. This is something else¡ªsomething he built. A weapon or a fortress. He¡¯s grown a lot from a tiny, curled-up light model in the Halcyon System¡¯s simulation. Now, his form overshadows me, the God in the Machine, and even the fourth member of our stand-off. But James isn¡¯t moving. And he refuses to speak¡ªso maybe we¡¯re not connected yet. That leaves the fourth figure. It¡¯s¡­slimy. Bigger than me. Eight sucker-covered tentacles, reddish skin that glistens with moisture, and a smell that¡¯s salty, sweaty, and sickly sweet at the same time. I¡¯ve seen this thing before, at the Ucluelet Aquarium. A giant Pacific octopus. The giant Pacific octopus. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I ask, breaking the silence. And that¡¯s what does it. The God in the Machine solidifies, ASCII symbols blurring into a cloak that¡¯s not digital but forms a barrier against the hurricane of ones and zeros that whirl around us. It surges toward me, cloak flapping in the wind. The air stills suddenly. James¡¯s gigantic body seems to stretch into the sky. It¡¯s his mindscape, and he¡¯s in control of it. The binary wind stops. It¡¯s silent¡ªeven the God in the Machine stops moving. Then the air bursts. It buffets the God in the Machine, which tumbles toward the data waterfalls. I fly the other way and hit the ground hard. Only the octopus seems unaffected. Its suckers squelch as it pulls them off the ground and oozes toward the falls after the God in the Machine. What is it doing here? I pick myself up, use Bullet Time, and fire three flaming rays toward the god. Its cloak absorbs them, and it vanishes. But I have my powers here¡ªall of them, not just Resistance. This isn¡¯t a mental fight anymore. Not for me. Data crashes down around me¡ªhuge rivulets of it. Overhead, James looks statue-like. Can he see me? I¡¯m not sure, but the flood of information I can¡¯t read increases, and the endless space around me starts to fill with it. [Intrusion detected. Data containment, purge, and reset process initiated,] James says. His words echo through the mindscape. I stop trying to fight the God in the Machine as the blue-light numbers in the falls start flicking to red until the falls look like blood, not water. Then, even faster than that, the crimson light flashes out across the shallow water. My boot touches it, dissolving at the edges, and I start running. It¡¯s not going to work. The faster I run, the faster the datastreams turn scarlet. The God in the Machine¡¯s fleeing, too. Right behind me. I¡¯m quicker than it is. More determined. The red lights catch up, and I use Slither to keep myself ahead. The God is surrounded by red light but still running. I fire my Revolver at him but miss twice. Then I have to Smoke Form as the red covers the ground around me, burning at my leather boots, and Slither right after. [Intrusion status: 30% containment,] James booms out. A yellow-orange color ripples out behind the red; as I watch, it tears into the crimson color. Digits fly, ones and zeros filling the air as they fight. The red gives before the yellow onslaught, and my friend¡¯s form shivers overhead. Then a tentacle lashes out from the crimson tide, wraps around my leg, and pulls. Another two erupt forward, wrapping themselves around the God in the Machine. The octopus¡¯s gigantic beak breaks the binary water¡¯s surface, tearing into the God¡¯s cloak, and it screams. The scream goes on and on, breathless but unending. It¡¯s dying. Is it dying? I can¡¯t tell¡ªas the black and white ASCII God and the giant giant Pacific octopus grapple, I can¡¯t even tell who¡¯s winning. It doesn¡¯t matter. As the crimson tide wars with the yellow-orange current behind me, its numbers wrap around each other. They form thrashing tendrils in the air that crash down into the binary surf around me. Blood-red numbers splash skyward, leaving droplets of crimson painted across the blue dome overhead. And I grapple with the tentacle grasping my leg. It pulls me inexorably into the red tide¡ªtoward the sharp beak that¡¯s tearing into the God in the Machine. It struggles to fight back, but it¡¯s too weak. [Intrusion status: 64% containment,] James¡¯s voice crashes onto the endless room like a hammer. Digital water fills the air and drenches my hoodie like a tsunami. The sucker tears free from my leg, leaving rings of burning agony etched on my calf through my torn, dripping leggings. My boots are falling apart from the crimson water. But the octopus¡¯s attention isn¡¯t on me. It rips into the God in the Machine, ASCII cloak and flesh parting before its massive beak. The God¡¯s still screaming, but the octopus¡¯s thoughts must be too alien because nothing stops its assault. There¡¯s no mindscape. No way to fight back. Was the God always this weak? I fire the Revolver, this time at the octopus¡¯s writhing mass of tentacles engulfing the God in the Machine. Burning wounds, filling the air with a stink that¡¯s too digital to be real and too real to be digital. [Warning: Database integrity at 98%. Database structural integrity critical,] James says. His face shifts toward me, eyes narrowing. It¡¯s the first time James has acknowledged me, even in passing, since we entered his mindscape. ¡°Got it. Sorry.¡± I have no weapons, then. But I do know the Truth about the God in the Machine. And it¡¯s one I understand. That it¡¯s a failure. It failed to keep its people safe until it was too late. The God in the Machine is a liar. It didn¡¯t just lie to me. It lied to its people and led them to their doom. My fists close, and I wait for the octopus to finish it off. Instead, the yellow code closes around the octopus, eating away at the myriad of tentacles it¡¯s created and shrinking it until it stands alone, its eight real tentacles grappling the God in the Machine. The scream continues endlessly, on and on, then cuts off with a snapping sound.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. [Intrusion status: 99% containment,] James says. And there it is. The yellow-orange tide fills the whole room to my knees. It covers the God in the Machine to where its hips would be. And the octopus lashes out at it fruitlessly, tentacles beating the water into a froth. [Resetting data.] The water flickers, then goes blue. The God in the Machine vanishes. So does the octopus. I still have questions about the octopus¡ªwas it the octopus from Ucluelet? Are all octopi anomalous? What was its danger level? And was it the same anomaly that the JAMES Experimental Sector¡¯s defenses killed? I¡¯ll never know. And that¡¯s okay, I guess. As I vanish, too, I decide some truths are unknowable.
There¡¯s a fire in the sanctuary. The glass-and-steel tube that housed the God in the Machine burns, the acrid stink of an electrical fire filling the entire space. Smoke wafts through the air as I shiver, filling the space between too-tall chairs and the iridescent arched ceiling. The God¡¯s scream keeps echoing as it lands back in this reality, but it¡¯s a far cry from the being that greeted James and me as Heretics. Its ASCII face blinks and flickers as the fire spreads through its glass veins. Then it shuts down. It flickers through six different colors¡ªavoiding both yellow and red¡ªand lands on a deep purple that fades to pink, then white, then nothing. And as it stops, James pops back into my aug. [Intrusion status: 100% containment. Resetting system interface module.] His voice sounds less like the British teen and more like the Halcyon System¡¯s not-quite-motherly tone. My augs flicker, and his voice comes back. This time, he sounds correct. [Alright, Claire, I think that intrusion¡¯s dealt with. Releasing security mode, returning to integrated mode.] The tension bleeds from my shoulders, and I slide the Revolver back into my hoodie pocket. It¡¯s not wet¡ªnothing in this world is¡ªand my pants aren¡¯t torn from the suckers, either. [System reset in progress. 20%. 60%. Reset comple¡ª] [Behind the tube,] James says, interrupting himself. My attention snaps to the steel-and-glass tube¡ªand the hole in the wall behind it. [Thirty minutes until these realities separate. I think the God in the Machine was using itself as a pin to keep them together, and now that there¡¯s no connection, they¡¯ll start drifting. Get moving.] It¡¯s not big, and the sheet of iridescent metal that¡¯s toppled to the ground was obviously meant to hide it. Behind me, on the other side of collapsed concrete, I can hear the shrieks of the devoured as they press into the tower. Something¡¯s changed; they wouldn¡¯t come in before. So, the God in the Machine must be dead. But so am I if we don¡¯t leave, and the hole in the wall¡¯s the only way. It¡¯s dark, but warm, dry air rushes out of it, blowing the hood off my head and streaming my hair behind me just like the code currents. I lick my too-dry lips¡ªthat¡¯ll make them chap, but I can¡¯t help it. Then, I dive into the tunnel. As I push through the sharp, chipped concrete, hunched down, I balance this place¡¯s equation, looking for the Truth. Not just what the God in the Machine¡¯s showed me, because it lied. But what it didn¡¯t show me. There¡¯s truth in that, too. The God in the Machine was¡­a factory. It was always anomalous, always independent, but the priesthood used it to create weapons. Weapons like the plague that made devourers. Its powerful thinking led to its own ego growing and its people becoming overconfident. They didn¡¯t expect to get hit back. And no one expected both the plague and weather to consume the world, leaving behind lifeless desert, monsters, and nothing else. So they retreated here at the God¡¯s behest, and it tried to find a solution but failed. With every failure, its lies became more and more apparent. Its people stopped believing it, then stopped believing in it. But it didn¡¯t stop trying. I crawl over some bones; they¡¯re longer than a human¡¯s should be. Thinner. Did its lies hurt this reality? Yes. But it kept looking for a solution until it found one. The thinning. But it found it too late. The God in the Machine cared about its people. It cared enough to keep working to save them from their own superweapons even after it was too late. And as I crawl through the concrete and my hands find sand, I have to wonder. Does its care absolve it of its lies? Are loving, caring lies the same as lies to hurt someone? Is it possible that its lies were good? And if they were, what does that mean for me? [Truth Learned: Provisional Reality AAA] [Active Skill Learned: Mindscape: ERROR. Missing Component] [Skill Learned: Anomalous Computing Systems 4] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 6] [Stability: 4/10] I know I¡¯ve lied to keep the Truth Club¡¯s secrets, and when I couldn¡¯t trust someone to begin with. What was the purpose of those lies? And if they were good lies, what made them good? The whole time I crawl through the tunnel, and even after I step out of it and into the yard past the pink-painted house at the edge of Holy Square, I think through my lies. Through other people¡¯s lies. The equation¡¯s messy, but by the time the endlessly-beating sun starts sucking the last sweat out of me, I¡¯ve got it figured out. X is the lie. Y is what I want the lie to do. And Z is what the lie actually does. If Z is less damaging than Y, then X is the right move. Lying¡¯s the right move. I¡¯ve never thought of lies as math, but now that they¡¯re here, it¡¯s so abundantly obvious. My only frustration is that I can¡¯t balance the equation until after the lie, so I can¡¯t know if a lie¡¯s good or bad. But I can put other people¡¯s lies into it. And I do. As I hurry across Reality AAA¡¯s desert, avoiding the devoured as they unzip from their banana-like cocoons, I put lie after lie into the equation. Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s English lies come out as okay. She was teaching what she knew. James¡¯s are okay, too¡ªhe¡¯s always tried to help. Director Smith¡¯s aren¡¯t, and neither are Alice¡¯s. Other people¡¯s lies are harder to remember, but having the math to prove that James is a good apple and Smith is a bad one is nice. I arrive at the twisted, broken trombones. The thinning¡¯s wall is there, still shimmering, but it¡¯s unstable at the edges. As I watch, it shrinks back. Through it, I can see the band room¡ªor what¡¯s left of it. [By my calculations, you¡¯ll have five minutes to get through. After that, this is your new home,] James says. There¡¯s an edge of panic in his voice, and I push my liar¡¯s math away. I¡¯ll have time for that later. I take a deep breath and Mergewalk back home.
I come out into the Landsdowne Middle School band room. And it reeks of daffodils and rotten meat, just like the reality I left behind. Right away, I¡¯m on edge. The Revolver comes up, and I head toward the perfectly round missing section of wall where the band room door used to be. That smell is the smell of devoured. Something came through. Did it merge before I stopped the God in the Machine? And if it did, are the teachers safe? [I¡¯m working on identifying why Mindscape isn¡¯t working, Claire,] James says. ¡°Thanks,¡± I grunt. The gun¡¯s up. I¡¯m through the hole, looking for devoured. For teachers. For anyone. James hasn¡¯t realized something¡¯s wrong. Then, just as quickly, he has. [Check the shelter. They¡¯ll be there. That¡¯s the logical retreat.] He sounds so much more serious; this isn¡¯t a matter of a missing skill. This is a serious problem now. I make sure the Revolver¡¯s ammo is glowing, slide the second cylinder into my other palm and squeeze it tight, then hurry down the hall. A few gunshots go off in front of me. There¡¯s fighting ahead. I level my Revolver and duck around the corner. There are five devoured. Two teachers¡ªMrs. Nazaire and someone else I don¡¯t recognize. They¡¯re in front of the shelter door. The open shelter door. Two of the devoured are regenerating, their waists shrinking impossibly as they heal bullet wounds. Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s cheap pistol barks. It¡¯s shrill, like a chihuahua. One shot bounces off the cinderblock wall with a whining sound. The other hits the devoured, but too low, in the stomach. I pull the Revolver¡¯s trigger. It barks, but it¡¯s like a Saint Bernard, not a purse dog. The first devoured¡¯s head disappears from its shoulder blades up. Then, the second follows. I¡¯ve fired four shots before a devoured notices me. I pull back as their shrieks fill the air. Sergeant Strauss¡¯s lessons on urban combat play as I step back toward a classroom. The first devoured rushes me, but the moment I see it, it¡¯s in my sights. I use Bullet Time and put three on its upper chest. It dies. I reload. It¡¯s almost mechanical at this point¡ªswitch the cylinders, align the holes, make it click, pull the trigger. Space warps, and another two devoured fly through the air until a barrage of bullets from the teachers kills them. Then there¡¯s one. The last one. I pull the trigger. A singularity rips into the monster¡¯s chest, and it¡¯s tough, but it can¡¯t regenerate the constant damage. The rotten meat smell is overpowering. So is the daffodil scent. I cough and fall to my knees, eyes watering. Then there¡¯s a hand on my shoulder. And one on the Revolver as I try to jerk it up toward whoever¡¯s attacking me. I Smoke Form. My attacker falls through me, her curly black hair unkempt and one hand on a pistol. It fires as her hand hits the ground. The bullet crashes into a locker and punches through the thin metal. Mrs. Nazaire nods, and the other teacher slowly takes his hand off the Revolver. I snatch it back, glaring. When I try to talk, my throat¡¯s too scratchy, and my lips hurt. They burn like fire. My skin¡¯s on fire, too, wherever my hoodie wasn¡¯t. I look at my hand. It¡¯s red like a sunburn. And there¡¯s a water fountain right across the hall. But this whole mess isn¡¯t over yet. I push myself onto my feet. ¡°Anyone else?¡± I croak out through my parched lips. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough, Clarice,¡± Mrs. Nazaire says, but I glare at her¡ªshe hasn¡¯t answered my question, and that¡¯s a lie. I know its Y, feel it in my lips and throat, but its Z is too much. She relents after a moment and offers me a hand. ¡°Mr. Williams isn¡¯t in the shelter. I¡¯m going to check his classroom.¡± I nod, taking one last wistful glance at the water fountain in its alcove on the wall. It¡¯ll have to wait.
Mr. William¡¯s room brings back memories. Memories of Sora and me screwing with him or of me walking out of his class and hiding in the library until the next period. I also have memories of his lectures on British Columbia¡¯s government, getting ready for the field trip to the British Columbia Parliament Building, and the conversation afterward about our leaders and the decisions they have to make. That led to questions about different kinds of government, and that led to the cow posters all around the room. ¡®Socialism: You have two cows. The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor.¡¯ ¡®Nazism: You have two cows. The government shoots you and takes the cows.¡¯ I hate those posters. They feel too simple to be truths about big, complicated ideas. And as I open the door, I can see all sixteen of them. Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s too close behind me. Sergeant Strauss would be furious. So would Lieutenant Rodriguez. I hold up a hand and step into the room. The devoured is in the corner. Mr. Williams is in the corner, too. I Slither across the room so he¡¯s not behind the monster anymore, use Bullet Time, and put three shots into the devoured. Easy. Too easy, but no matter where I look, it¡¯s the only enemy in the room. It¡¯s clear. [Skill Learned: Urban Combat 2] Mr. Williams is hurt on his tile floor, but Mrs. Nazaire rushes and drags him to his feet before I can get in close and give him first aid. They walk to the door, him hobbling on a bloody, shredded leg and her moving quickly with the gun in her hand. She gives me a quick nod. ¡°See me in my office in fifteen minutes, Clarice.¡± I wince in spite of myself. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve been sent to the principal¡¯s office. Chapter Thirty-Two SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 12:12 AM - - - - - Paul Ramirez¡¯s hands were sweaty. He had the director¡¯s computer¡ªhis computer¡ªopen, and as the seconds ticked by, he dug deeper into the few files of archived information on inter-merge expeditions. There weren¡¯t many because most merges aggressively resisted crossings from R0 to the merged reality. Outside of the bubble, both realities went on, or when they pinched off, they left behind bits of themselves in R0. He had two expeditions so far. In the first, a Recovery and Stabilization Team had fallen through the barrier between R0 and R994. The reality on the other side had been hospitable but not friendly, and they¡¯d burned through their ammunition on the hundreds of Anquan-Danger anomalies they¡¯d encountered while trying to re-breach the merge wall. They hadn¡¯t gotten back out, though their footage had¡ªheavily corrupted, with static running for whole minutes. But SHOCKS had learned something about the nature of merges from it. The second had been more disastrous for SHOCKS by far. A single Agent had found herself on the far side of a merge between R0 and R1032. Sound had been broadcast live, indicating that R1032 had similar physics to R0. She¡¯d reported back for weeks as she crossed a massive valley between impossibly sharp mountains, raiding settlements for supplies and fighting or running from things she tried and failed to describe as anything logical. After three weeks, she was pronounced dead, though contact continued for another month before she panicked, demanded an evacuation, and cut ties when the evacuation was denied. When she¡¯d walked back into SHOCKS Headquarters Everglades two months later, security had detained her. She¡¯d sat for an interview for six hours, at the end of which the SHOCKS EVG Control Zone Director declared her an anomaly and had her escorted to a cell. She¡¯d escaped, raided the armory, and broken free from the facility. Worse, she¡¯d lied seamlessly in the interview, and SHOCKS couldn¡¯t trust any of her testimony. There were others, but they were minor events, little more than a minute or two in another reality, with few or no survivors. These two expeditions held the information SHOCKS needed. First, Agent DeWalt had mentioned finding a key or a portal inside R1032. When she¡¯d tried to activate it, she couldn¡¯t, but she¡¯d said she thought it would shut the whole merge down and give her a way out. She refused to elaborate further, but SHOCKS thought she¡¯d been honest about that part with sixty-two percent certainty. She¡¯d gotten out, after all. If true, it¡¯d allow the organization to stop merges, not just counter them on the R0 side. Second, the squad in R994 had reported leakage from the R0 side. Ramirez saw that for what it was; other realities merged with R0, but R0 also merged with other realities. Combining that data with Sergeant Strauss¡¯s trip into R93¡¯s maze and Clarice Pendleton¡¯s ability to navigate it¡ªnot to mention her sole possession of the JAMES system in the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone¡ªled Acting Director Ramirez to a conclusion he desperately didn¡¯t want to arrive at. He tried to ignore it. If he didn¡¯t say it out loud for fifteen minutes, that¡¯d be fifteen minutes longer that SHOCKS wasn¡¯t at a monster¡¯s mercy. Besides, there was one last piece of evidence. He clicked his mouse, pulling up a map of Victoria with the Universal Reality Anchors marked across it. There were a half-dozen green ones in the James Bay area surrounding SHOCKS VVI Headquarters, a scattering of green and yellow around the map, and a blob of red and purple in Victoria¡¯s northeast half and near Sooke. As he watched, one flickered from red to yellow, then hovered at the border of yellow and green. He clicked on it, and it zoomed in on Landsdowne Middle School. Something had relieved the pressure on its URA. ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered. Fifteen minutes would be too long. He cleared his throat and looked at the RST trooper with whom he shared an office. ¡°Olivia? I need advice.¡± ¡°Yeah? Spill.¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez sighed. She looked too tired for games, and Doctor Ramirez was too scared for them. His sweaty hands shook as he turned his monitor toward her. ¡°I think I can save SHOCKS VVI. Maybe even the city. And possibly¡­the world.¡±
Landsdowne Middle School, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 12:12 AM - - - - - I¡¯ve sat in this chair before. It¡¯s a burnt orange plastic, the kind of dull color that doesn¡¯t say it¡¯s happy to see you and won¡¯t be sad when you leave. Mrs. Nazaire wants a debriefing. That¡¯s what Sergeant Strauss or Director Smith would call it. But she just asked me to see her in her office. That¡¯s way more ominous. Did she do the teacher voice thing by reflex, or intentionally? The burnt orange chair squeaks as I stand and walk back to the water fountain outside the office for the fourth time. The water¡¯s cool, clear, and exactly what I need. You don¡¯t realize how much you¡¯ve missed cool water until you¡¯ve been in a completely dry world for a whole morning. I let it dribble down my chin and across my parched lips¡ªI¡¯ve probably drank a gallon in the last ten minutes, and I¡¯ll need the bathroom soon. The red color on my hands is starting to fade. Was it a sunburn or just dehydration? The clock on the wall won¡¯t stop ticking. And James isn¡¯t helping. [Okay, it¡¯s looking like Mindscape is a skill that¡¯ll require some set-up. That won¡¯t happen until you sleep and we find the rest of the components for it.] ¡°I¡¯m not ready for a nap,¡± I say, sounding like a whiny baby. [You don¡¯t have time anyway. Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s going to want to know everything.] ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to know everything.¡± I¡¯m not planning on lying to her¡ªthe XYZ equation doesn¡¯t look good on that one¡ªbut she doesn¡¯t need to know what the God in the Machine was or about the battle in James¡¯s mindscape. I¡¯m not sure how much detail I want to give her about the rest, either. SHOCKS isn¡¯t powerful right now, but the last thing she¡¯ll need is to deal with the boogeymen when things calm down. Outside the office windows, I can see the big thinning I tried to enter yesterday. It looks angrier. Like it wants to pop. So, maybe things won¡¯t calm down. I fidget and return to the orange chair, but my butt hasn¡¯t even hit the plastic when Mrs. Nazaire comes back. She¡¯s got a haunted-looking expression on her face, and she looks at my bruises and cuts, then shrugs off a first-aid kit. ¡°Those look mostly healed, but let me take a look at them,¡± she says, sighing. I shake my head. None of the devoureds¡¯ blows hurt as much as they should, and she¡¯s right; my injuries don¡¯t look fresh. They feel a couple of days old, the bruises turning brown and yellow like bananas instead of the plum color of freshly smashed skin. Nothing she can do will help them at this point. ¡°I need to move on. Sora¡¯s out there.¡± She looks like I¡¯ve slapped her. Then she composes herself and nods slowly. ¡°Of course. And your family, right? Well, come in, and let¡¯s talk about what happened.¡± And I¡¯m called into Mrs. Nazaire¡¯s office for the second time in two days. It¡¯s hard to shake the feeling that I¡¯m in trouble, especially because I have been so many times. I could leave¡ªit¡¯d be easy, just walk through the door, Slither or Smoke Form if I have to, and head for the exit. But Mrs. Nazaire deserves to know the truth, or as much of it as I can share.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. As soon as my butt hits the slightly more comfortable, green-cushioned chair, the floodgates open for Mrs. Nazaire. She learns more about that other reality than I expected to tell her; every part of my story brings questions. They¡¯re cutting. They slice away my lies of omission and purposeful lies until the Z value of every lie outweighs the Y. I answer truthfully. Sometimes, the answer is, ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about that,¡± but it¡¯s always the truth. She¡¯s earned that for now. When I finish talking about the tunnel escape and coming back to the meat-and-daffodil stench, Mrs. Nazaire clears her throat. There¡¯s an expression on her face that¡¯s somewhere between relief, disbelief, and nervousness. It lasts a second, but I see it. ¡°Okay. The band room thinning is dealt with. Now we have to figure out how to deal with the big one.¡± I gulp. James is already going off in my head about how I can¡¯t stay for that. I wish I could mute him sometimes; there¡¯s no way I¡¯m going back into that reality. No. Way. Not without a gas mask, a yellow hazmat suit, and a flamethrower. The rotten rose smell surges in my mind. Maybe two flamethrowers. ¡°We¡¯re stuck here. If it pops while we¡¯re outside, there¡¯s no way we¡¯ll survive it long-term. I saw those monsters¡ª¡° ¡°Devoured,¡± I interrupt. ¡°Devoured, then.¡± Mrs. Nazaire looks like she wants to pull the principal card and be an authority, but I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m stronger than her. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m stronger than most people now. I narrow my eyes a little and stare at her until she composes herself and continues. ¡°I saw them take bullets and keep coming. And whatever¡¯s in that big thinning is worse.¡± ¡°I agree.¡± We fall silent. Mrs. Nazaire looks like she¡¯s trying to work through some argument that¡¯d make me stay and help them, and I¡¯m working through reasons why I should and shouldn¡¯t listen to her. Because I really want to help. It¡¯s the right thing to do. But I can¡¯t. Not right now. I¡¯ve already wasted too much time here and at Aberdeen Hospital. Sora¡¯s out there; if it¡¯s bad in Duncan, she¡¯ll need my help. Alice and Dad could use it, too, if they¡¯ll listen to me. Besides, the Landsdowne staff has a shelter and a Universal Reality Anchor that seems like it¡¯s working. If there¡¯s anywhere in Victoria where they¡¯ll be safe¡­ It¡¯s SHOCKS Headquarters. That realization strikes me like a fist. I push it out of my head, because that¡¯s not happening. SHOCKS has no interest in helping a couple of random people. They¡¯re dealing with bigger stuff, like trying to cover all of this up. The shelter is the best place Mrs. Nazaire and her people can be. I clear my throat to tell her that, but she interrupts before I can get going. ¡°No, I see it. You¡¯re going to say no.¡± Her face is pale, and she won¡¯t meet my eyes. Is she about to lie to me? ¡°That¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll be okay here. You did enough for us.¡± One of those is the lie. Maybe two. But there¡¯s a truth in there, too, and I can¡¯t separate them. ¡°Listen, if you want to try getting somewhere¡ª¡° ¡°No. I think that whatever¡¯s happening, our best option is to stay here. We¡¯re not trained or organized enough to try moving, not if something like the devoured find us. We¡¯ll be okay.¡± That¡¯s a lie, too. I let it slide.
It¡¯s almost three by the time I finally leave Landsdowne¡¯s Middle School¡¯s stacked square windows and make it past the row of trees. My backpack weighs a ton now, the prunes and banana chips replaced with single-serving pre-packaged cafeteria food. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll need it on the four or five-mile walk to Ten Mile Point. But it all beats prunes, and that¡¯s the truth. Behind me, a figure shadows me on the other side of the windows. It waves at me, and I wave back. I¡¯m not stupid enough to turn around or say anything because if I did that, I¡¯d end up trying to help them, and I can¡¯t do anything about the big thinning. All I can do is sneak past it and figure out how to help my friends and family survive when it merges. Cadboro Bay Road cuts north past an abandoned golf course; the huge thinning¡¯s shimmering, colored wall hangs over the overgrown grass just a couple of feet from the cracked sidewalk. I cross the street to get four lanes of asphalt between me and the thinning, just in case. And I hold the Revolver¡¯s grip tight. But nothing happens at the Uplands Golf Club. James is quiet. I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s up to; he¡¯s probably trying to break into some locked-down section of the SHOCKS database, or compiling data on Provisional Reality AAA. I already know what I need to know about it. The God in the Machine¡¯s done, and that reality¡¯s no longer a threat to ours. It ended itself, and there¡¯s no one left to merge it with R0. I shiver. What if they¡¯d merged a few weeks earlier? Would the God in the Machine have been able to come across or send his people to Victoria? And would they have brought the devoured plague with them? The newspaper article I read made it sound really fast; if it was going to be a problem here, now, I¡¯d know already. [Claire?] James sounds almost tentative¡­hesitant. I tense. He¡¯s had subjects he didn¡¯t want to broach before, but I¡¯ve been the one asking the questions all those times. ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s up?¡± [In updating my database entry for you, I¡¯m encountering several dead ends relating to your family. There¡¯s plenty of information on Alice and Robert Pendleton, and I remember small chunks of it, but it wasn¡¯t in Strauss¡¯s helmet drives. Could you answer a few questions?] ¡°No.¡± My mind flips back to the West End High bathroom and to James asking me about my birthday and the day Mom died. Those details aren¡¯t something I can share with the Truth Club¡ªI¡¯ve tried. And if I can¡¯t trust Sora with the absolute Truth, the Truth that¡¯s shaped every truth I¡¯ve shared with her and Keith, then how can I trust James with it? Sure, he¡¯s seen the official reports, but they don¡¯t cover everything, and they¡¯re just facts. None of the fear, the helplessness. Just the blackest and whitest, most sanitized facts about my case. So, as the silence stretches, I clear my throat. ¡°No. Look, I get it that you want to run a sim or something, but I can¡¯t.¡± [Are you sure? The database entry could go a long way toward sorting through your memories of the past ten days or so. I¡¯d be happy to enable confidentiality protocols to keep what you share from falling into the wrong hands.] ¡°No,¡± I say for a third time, fists clenching in my hoodie pocket. What¡¯s so hard to get about no? I think about asking James that, but he goes silent for long enough that I think the conversation¡¯s over. The road loops east around Cadboro Bay, and I can see the towering basic living buildings in the distance. They¡¯re gigantic rectangles with shining blackish windows that reflect the afternoon sun in my eyes, but before I shield them, I look toward the one that¡¯s my home. Is Alice looking out? Or are she and Dad busy distracting themselves with phone calls to friends and bottles? I have too many questions. And they¡¯re not moving me toward Ten Mile Point. ¡°Help me with this equation,¡± I say, as much to distract James from his nosing around as because I care about the answer. He doesn¡¯t need to know more about Dad than he already does. Or about Alice. All he needs to know about her is that she¡¯s a liar, and he refuses to see that. [Sure, shoot.] ¡°The math is for that big thinning. I want to know how much of Victoria it¡¯ll swamp if it pops.¡± I keep walking on the far side of the road from the golf course. ¡°Will we be safe in Ten Mile Point?¡± [Analyzing. Running simulations.] James goes quiet, and I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
Sora knows something about architecture. She knows that most of the apartment complexes and basic living buildings on Victoria¡¯s fringes are brutalist¡ªand that they¡¯re not the cool kind of brutalist. They¡¯re square, concrete monoliths that stick out from the earth around them like a gap-filled smile. She knows this because her brother wants to go to university to be an architect. But Itsuki Ito¡¯s grades probably aren¡¯t good enough to get in, and I could never figure out why Sora was reading his textbooks, anyway. The point is that the basic living buildings stick out like a sore thumb, especially compared to downtown Victoria and Hillside Avenue. There¡¯s a staggered wall of them on the edge of Ten Mile Point. We live in the third row, Building Three-Five, Floor Twelve, Apartment 1245. It¡¯s a one-bedroom apartment because that¡¯s what was available after Mom died, and Dad¡¯s never bothered applying for a two or three-bedroom place. Building Three-Five is still a ways away, but I can see the red-painted top floor in the distance¡ªthe only nod to art in the whole building. Everything else is mathematically precise: exactly eight hundred square feet for a single-bed apartment, nine hundred for a two-bed, and eleven hundred for a three. Hallways are four feet wide, and the common area is hollow and open from the first floor¡¯s tile floor to the top¡¯s drop-panel ceiling. It¡¯ll be familiar when I get there. But I¡¯ve never walked into Ten Mile Point. I¡¯ve always taken the bus. I stand on the corner of Telegraph Bay and Arbutus, staring at the basic living buildings. They¡¯re lined up like soldiers facing the massive thinning behind me. I glance back. The silver and multicolored glimmer covers the horizon. It¡¯s glowing. My ears are ringing. Shit. [Simulation finished. That¡¯ll cover the whole north side of the city, easy,] James says. Shit. The thinning glows brighter and more vibrant, but I¡¯m not sticking around to find out what¡¯s in it. My ears pop, but I¡¯m already running toward Building Three-Five, Floor Twelve, Apartment 1245. I get close when the thinning¡¯s bright white light fills the air behind me. Will the maroon sun overpower the clouds? Is the buzz starting? No, I¡¯m not doing this. I¡¯m still running, even if it¡¯s pointless. As long as I don¡¯t blink, it won¡¯t merge, I think crazily. I can control when it merges. I can stop it. I blink. Sure enough, in the fraction of a second I can¡¯t see, Victoria merges. Thunder booms, lightning fills the skies, and every electric light in the city flares and sparks out at the same time before resetting. As I dash toward its metal-grilled doors, the fungus starts climbing Building Three-Five¡¯s walls. It¡¯s already dying, but I can¡¯t breathe. I won¡¯t let myself breathe. The rose smell¡¯s still rotten, but it¡¯s too close to the merge that killed my mom. I can¡¯t help it. I breathe in just as my hand closes on the door latch. There¡¯s no time for equations, or James, or anything else. My lungs fill with fungus hunting for a warm, safe spot to grow, but I force myself to cough even as I collapse on the cheap tile atrium floor. The coughs hit like trucks, but my lungs empty the dying fungus onto the Basic Living Building¡¯s cold floor. I look around. No one¡¯s here. Chapter Thirty-Three Alice and I share a bedroom; she¡¯s on the top bunk, and I got the bottom because of course I did. Dad sleeps on a pull-out mattress sofa or in his armchair. Usually in his armchair. Almost always in his armchair. It took a long time to realize that Dad wasn¡¯t a rock anymore. But we did. The more he disappeared, the more Alice stepped into his shoes. Cooking, laundry, anything a parent needed to do for a single-digit kid, Alice figured out how to do for me. She was good at it. Kept me going. And she never stopped bitching about how much it took from her life. But even as a kid, I was the one who had to wake her up. Otherwise, neither of us got to school.
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 5:42 PM - - - - - [Running Analyze,] James says. [I¡¯ll let you know my projections for the fungus soon.] The fungus I¡¯m coughing out isn¡¯t the only fungus in the atrium. It¡¯s dying everywhere, piling up in stinking, rotting masses. I pull myself together and pick myself up. The glass doors are half-covered with the stuff outside, too. And the goop isn¡¯t the only stuff I can see through the doors. Three massive shapes loom on the horizon¡ªthey¡¯re taller than the single-family houses, taller than the businesses I passed on Hillside, but smaller than Aberdeen Hospital¡¯s six stories. From this far, they look almost like circles, but as I stare, they move, and their shapes turn oblong and distorted. They¡¯re scaled, and three tentacles lunge lazily forward to drag one down Arbutus Street toward the line of basic living buildings that loom over them. They might not be as big as the brutalist towers, but I don¡¯t want to know what they¡¯ll do if they decide to break into Building Three-Five. I¡¯ve already got an equation half-built in my head. The best thing I can do is stay away from the windows. If the monsters¡¯¡ª [Fungal Lords] ¡ªsure. If the Fungal Lords are like Earth predators, my best bet is not to be seen. I doubt the Revolver¡¯s doing much against that. So, X is either hiding, running, or fighting. Fighting won¡¯t work, and I can¡¯t run¡ªnot when I¡¯m this close to finding Dad and Alice, and definitely not when I need to use my apartment as a base to get to Sora. [I¡¯m sorry, Claire. There¡¯s no URA in this building. Its reality levels are already mixing with the merge outside.] ¡°How close are we to the merging reality?¡± I tear myself away from the spore-covered window and head for the stairs. I don¡¯t want to be in an elevator if one of those things runs into the building. [Pretty close. I¡¯m not expecting massive reality swings, but with no URA, it¡¯s unknown whether the basic living buildings will fill with fungus as the realities come together.] ¡°Oh.¡± I¡¯m quiet for a minute, trying to reevaluate the equation. I haven¡¯t taken into account the spores and the fungus, only the Fungal Lords. And I don¡¯t know what they can do, so even the math I¡¯ve done is suspect at best. I set that math aside and start a new equation. It¡¯s just as challenging, and it lasts almost all the way up to the twelfth floor. I need to figure out how to get Alice and Dad to listen to me. Not just to not ignore the truth but to listen to me and trust that I have a plan. So, variables. Is Dad drunk? Is Alice putting up a front, or has all this broken it? Will they believe me when I say we need to get to Duncan, or maybe even farther away? And, of course, how will they react to me showing up? Four variables¡ªjust about unsolvable, but I know more about them than about the anomalies outside. My hand¡¯s on the door from the stairwell to the twelfth floor when I get a wave of deja vu. I¡¯ve been here before. If I open this door, will I find a swarm of memetically-infected neighbors? I have to breathe the thought down. That¡¯s not what this merge did. This merge is a physical threat and a toxic one, but Building Three-Five¡¯s residents should be safe for now. For now¡­ I open the door. The familiar long hall lined with apartment doors greets me. It¡¯s empty, of course, but I can hear people moving in their apartments. That¡¯s a relief; the rest of the building¡¯s been so empty and quiet that I was starting to worry. But behind me, at the end of the hall, the window that usually looks out over a little park I used to play in is covered in dying, rotting fungus. Apartment 1245 is past the elevators and the vending machines. I hurry through the eerily quiet hall and into the common area. The vending machines are mostly cleared out; the buttons for different sodas are almost all dark, except for a single lit-up one for ginger ale. The snack one¡¯s empty, too. Not that I have money or a need. Then, so quickly I hardly notice it¡¯s happened, I find myself standing outside of Building Three-Five, Apartment 1245. My finger¡¯s already punched in the first three digits of our eight-digit key code before I can stop myself, but I stop myself. I take three steps down the hall and breathe. Just breathe. I can do this. I¡¯ve fought monsters, escaped from SHOCKS, and been to other realities. I can do this. The code¡¯s reset, so I start over. I¡¯m on digit number five when the door opens, and Alice stares at me, wide-eyed. ¡°Hi,¡± I say.
For almost five seconds, Alice stares at me. She doesn¡¯t do anything, doesn¡¯t even breathe. Then her eyes dart back inside, toward our bedroom door. She looks at me again, blinks, and bursts into tears. I wasn¡¯t expecting that reaction. I¡¯d expected her to scream like she¡¯d seen a ghost or to badger me about making her worry. Or anything but my perfect, stupid sister, in tears, with her arms around me. She¡¯s blubbering. It¡¯s almost too much. Maybe it is too much. Is this another of my sister¡¯s lies? I half-listen to what she¡¯s saying, returning the hug automatically. She¡¯s ranting on and on about the fire door, and me getting trapped on the wrong side of West End High during the fire, and how they didn¡¯t know where I was, or how when I was in an intensive care unit at Saxe Point, they couldn¡¯t come to see me because public transportation was down. The words don¡¯t matter to me. She¡¯s a liar. But I quickly realize that she¡¯s not lying. The Xs and Ys don¡¯t line up. She believes what she¡¯s saying. Under her half-assed makeup, I can see the bags under her eyes, and when she says she hasn¡¯t been sleeping because she¡¯s been so worried, I believe her. God, I believe her¡ªshe can¡¯t stop crying. Something loud interrupts us. Neither of us flinch, but only because we¡¯ve heard the freight train sound a hundred thousand times. I wrinkle my nose as I shrug off Alice¡¯s hug and shut the door. The whole living room smells like sweat and staleness and the nose-tickling stench of mostly emptied bottles. The smell of Dad. And the sound of him snoring in front of a muted TV. ¡°He¡¯s been out for four or five hours,¡± Alice says. Her voice breaks a little, and she swallows her tears. There¡¯s something else in her eyes, though. It¡¯s something I¡¯ve never seen there before. I can¡¯t place it, though. And there¡¯s another smell in the apartment. I can¡¯t place that either. Alice keeps talking. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s talk. Kitchen table.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I want to fight. I want to argue. I want to scream at her about the fire door, and the makeup on her face even though there¡¯s no reason for her to get dolled up, and why she thinks she can boss me around like I¡¯m still six and she¡¯s the only person who can feed me ramen noodles, and why she thinks it¡¯s still business as usual and that she¡¯s the big sister and she knows how best to handle what¡¯s obviously not something either of us can handle. But now¡¯s not the time. So, instead, I let her drag me to the table. She slides into her plastic chair¡ªthe same one she always sits in. It¡¯s closer to the kitchen; she claimed it so she could deal with whatever she was cooking and keep me from burning myself when I was little. I get the view of outside¡ªactually, of a pulled curtain. There¡¯s a quarter-loaf of white bread and some peanut butter on the counter. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± Alice asks. ¡°I can make you something.¡± I recognize a peace offering when I see one, and that¡¯s the best I¡¯m going to get from Alice. Instead, I shrug off my backpack and open it. As I pull out a pair of microwavable pizza pockets, Alice¡¯s eyes lock onto them. I set them on the table and clear my throat. ¡°I stopped by Landsdowne Middle School on the way home. Mrs. Nazaire was there, and she made sure I got enough food.¡± ¡°Great.¡± Alice forces a smile, but her eyes don¡¯t match it. They dart back to the living room where Dad¡¯s asleep in his armchair, settle on our bedroom door for a second, and return to the pizza pockets. ¡°Can I¡­?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± She scoops up the pizza pockets and carries them to the microwave¡ªtaking care of her little sister, just like old times. She glances at the bedroom door again, then looks at me for a second. Her eyebrows go up. Then the mask goes on, and she¡¯s perfect Alice again before she even sits down. ¡°What happened to you after the fire door?¡± I hesitate and look away. There¡¯s a little corner of the fridge where Alice put my art from first and second grade, when she was pretending to be Mom. The faded pictures are still there, and I stare at them, trying to figure out what¡¯s missing. As I do, James speaks up in my augs. [Claire, the anomalies outside don¡¯t seem to be growing, but the fungus isn¡¯t deteriorating as quickly as it used to. I think it¡¯ll reach an equilibrium between the Fungal Lords¡¯ ability to generate fungus and Earth¡¯s atmosphere killing it. Either way, we¡¯ll want to leave here in the next day or two. Without a URA, it won¡¯t be safe here forever.] I nod; I¡¯m not ready to share James with anyone, but especially not with Alice. She¡¯s not like Mrs. Nazaire. She wouldn¡¯t believe he was real. Instead, I clear my throat. ¡°I hid in the bathroom for a while, found a gun, and killed one of the monsters. The boogeymen found me and locked me up for a while.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Alice asks. She rolls her eyes at me, and I glare at her as they flick briefly to look at our bedroom door again. ¡°You still believe that? I know some weird stuff happened at my graduation, but there aren¡¯t secret agents after you, Claire.¡± So she hasn¡¯t changed, then. She knows she put me in danger, but even with everything happening, she can¡¯t see the truth. But I don¡¯t clam up. This is the point where I fight. So I ball my fists and dig in. ¡°Alice, I¡¯m not lying. This is the truth.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± She shrugs. ¡°Sure. Could there be a conspiracy of shadowy government agents out there? Totally. But that they¡¯re constantly watching you? That doesn¡¯t make any sense. Claire, think for a minute. You¡¯re a teenage girl. There¡¯s no conspiracy after you.¡± She glances at our closed bedroom door again. I follow her gaze, but the microwave beeps, and she¡¯s up, clearing her throat. ¡°Let¡¯s have some dinner, and then we can talk through this.¡± As she gets the pizza pockets, I stare at the closed door. Why is it closed? Dad hates it when the door¡¯s closed. He thinks if he can hear and see us, we won¡¯t be able to make trouble. He¡¯s wrong, but it¡¯s easier to let him believe that, so the bedroom door¡¯s never closed unless we¡¯re changing or something. And if we do close it, it¡¯s so we don¡¯t wake Dad up while he¡¯s sleeping off his drinking. So, if Alice is out here, why is it closed? Alice returns to the table with a single paper plate and two pizza pockets. The marinara sauce burns, and the cheese sticks to my teeth, but it¡¯s pretty good, and Alice is back in her element again¡ªexcept that she can¡¯t stop herself from looking at the door a couple of times as she eats. I reach into my hoodie pocket with the hand that¡¯s not eating and grip the Revolver. Then I take another bite of the scalding-hot pizza pocket. ¡°Alright. What happened to you and Dad after West End?¡± ¡°We waited in the shelter for a while,¡± Alice says. That¡¯s a truth, but also a lie. She chews thoughtfully, swallows, and continues. ¡°The wave knocked out power and started some fires. Then, after the rescuers pulled us out, some health workers gave us pills to deal with the stress and the smoke in our lungs and sent us home. We were worried about you, but the whole school was either damaged or crawling with firefighters and inspectors, so we couldn¡¯t do anything except wait for them to find you.¡± The wave? ¡°There wasn¡¯t a tsunami.¡± ¡°No, there definitely was. Why else would they move everyone to the shelter? That¡¯s what it¡¯s there for¡ªearthquakes and tsunamis. So, we got the pills, took them while the doctors watched, and got bussed back home. The school said my diploma would come in the mail, but it hasn¡¯t yet.¡± ¡°And you¡¯ve been here ever since?¡± She nods. Takes another bite of her pizza pocket. Sets it down. ¡°Where else would we go? Yeah, there¡¯s some sort of disease in Sooke, but that¡¯s a long ways away, and the TV said to stay in your houses until the Public Health Agency gets things under control.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not going to get it under control,¡± I say. Somewhere outside, a Fungal Lord is moving toward us. I can¡¯t see it, but I can feel it. I want to ask James if they¡¯re Qishi-Danger anomalies. But I can¡¯t, because I don¡¯t want to share James with Alice, and she¡¯d never believe me anyway. "They will. The Public Health Agency is really good at what it does. I heard the TV say they¡¯re working on vaccinations now, and we should be out of lockdown in a week.¡± Alice pauses. Then she takes a deep breath, sighs dramatically, and puts her head on her hands. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back.¡± ¡°Thanks, dumb-butt. Me too.¡± She glares at me, but there¡¯s something missing in her eyes. It takes me a moment¡ªmaybe two¡ªto figure it out. There¡¯s no anger or annoyance. Instead, there¡¯s worry. A lot of worry. [Is there a bathroom window?] James asks suddenly. [It doesn¡¯t have to be big, but we need to take a look outside.] He¡¯s right. We need to know what¡¯s going on outside with the Fungal Lords, and I don¡¯t trust Alice¡¯s reaction if she opens the shade in the living room. I take another bite of the pizza pocket and clear my throat. ¡°Bathroom.¡± As Alice nods, I walk down the hall and duck into the narrow, shower-only bathroom. The lock clicks shut, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The second I¡¯m alone, James starts talking my ear off. [Claire, I¡¯m trying to run a simulation on your sister to figure out what she¡¯s trying to do here. She¡¯s acting shifty, like she¡¯s trying to hide something. But I don¡¯t have the data I need to finish it.] ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ask for that earlier?¡± I mutter. I¡¯m already working my way through the tub toward the high, small window that¡¯s perfect for letting steam out and worthless for everything else. Opening it requires scaling Mount Shower like a cliff, clinging to the shower rail with my feet and the high windowsill with my fingertips. [I did ask for it earlier. You said no. Three times.] James sounds smug and exasperated. [The window was just to get you somewhere you could talk to me. I need to know this stuff. You need me to know this stuff.] I pull myself up to the window, even though James doesn¡¯t need it. At this point, it¡¯s as much to put off answering the question as it is to see what¡¯s out there. I peer out into the twelfth-floor air, a hundred fifty feet up or something, expecting to see green plants, the far-away Haro Strait and the Salish Sea, and half of another basic living building. Instead, a milky red-white blob greets me between the growing and dying fungus. Its core is jet-black, and the rest is a red-to-pink-to-white fade of color. I stare into it, trying to figure out what it is. It blinks. I let go of the windowsill, let out a scream that cuts off as I hit the shower¡¯s basin, and scramble out of the plastic shower curtain that¡¯s collapsed around me like a tentacle. The Revolver is up, pointing at the window like I¡¯m going to hurt the massive Fungal Lord with it. How did it get up this high? How hasn¡¯t it torn the building apart? A door slams in the apartment¡ªthe bedroom door. Feet move down the hall. For a moment, I expect to hear Alice momming at me, checking to see if I¡¯m okay from my fall. But she doesn¡¯t say anything to me. Neither does Dad. Someone¡¯s talking, but I can¡¯t tell what¡¯s being said. Or who¡¯s saying it. I stare up at the gigantic eye, not moving, Revolver ready. It blinks again, then moves on. I can hear the tentacles dragging it up and around the Basic Living Building, and its scales work their way past the window for almost a minute¡ªsomehow, without cracking the glass. I take a deep breath. ¡°Okay. Sorry, I guess. Keep your eyes open and¡ª¡° ¡°Claire, you okay in there?¡± Alice calls. There¡¯s something off about her voice, and I stop muttering at James. She sounds quivery, like she¡¯s shaking a little. ¡°Yeah, I just tripped. You left so much crap everywhere,¡± I say back. I¡¯m not lying. Alice is rough on the bathroom in the best of circumstances, and her dirty clothes are piled against one wall instead of put in the hamper in the living room. ¡°I¡¯ll be out in a minute.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± There¡¯s a long pause, but I don¡¯t hear Alice moving. It¡¯s quiet out there. I do my business, wash my hands, and touch the doorknob. [Be careful,] James says. [I don¡¯t have a simulation for your family, and something is wrong here.] I nod, get the Revolver ready, and open the door. Director Smith greets me. His massive revolver¡¯s pointed at Alice, who¡¯s shaking and sitting at her spot at the kitchen table. He gestures with his free hand at my seat. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, Subject 573-V-1/IO Alpha, let¡¯s talk about the end of the world.¡± Chapter Thirty-Four The news is never good. Dad watches it at max volume or muted¡ªno middle ground. The TV¡¯s always screaming about United States politics, about what a shit show it is a few miles across the Salish Sea. It¡¯d sound like a lie, except he watches so many different channels, and the yelling¡¯s the same. Even the local news isn¡¯t better. There¡¯s so much going on, and I can¡¯t help but hear it when he¡¯s watching. And, under the thin covering of the official news, I¡¯ve always got the same questions. How much of this is real? How much is merges? And how much isn¡¯t getting covered at all? I used to wish he¡¯d listen to me like he listens to the talking heads on the television. Later, I was glad he didn¡¯t.
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 6:03 PM - - - - - I can take him. The equation¡¯s simple. Director Smith¡¯s got a Smith and Wesson¡ªdon¡¯t ask how I know that, I just do¡ªand I¡¯ve got the Revolver, Bullet Time, and a half-dozen other skills that apply here. He wouldn¡¯t have a chance if it was just him against me. He doesn¡¯t have enough variables. I doubt he even knows what all the variables are. But I do. And that¡¯s why I sit down, Revolver pointing at him but lying flat on the table. Because a fight right here only does three things, and none of them are good. First, Alice. His gun¡¯s pointing at her. Even if I can kill Director Smith, there¡¯s a good chance he pulls the trigger. She can¡¯t take a bullet. There¡¯s no way. So I can¡¯t fight him because, liar or not, Alice is my sister, and I can¡¯t risk her life. Second, James. He¡¯s been screaming in my head since the door opened. [Claire, listen to me. Smith¡¯s not in it for revenge. He wants the same thing you do,] on and on and on. But he¡¯s at least a little right because if Smith wanted me dead, he¡¯d have put shots through the bathroom door while I was in there. So he must want to talk. I don¡¯t want to talk, but¡­yeah. And third, Dad. He¡¯s sleeping, and both Alice and I know better than to wake him up this late. It¡¯s far better to just let sleeping rocks lie. So, I sit down, Revolver on the table. Smith gestures for Alice to sit, then does the same. He¡¯s in Dad¡¯s seat. His shadow throws it into darkness under the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, but I can barely see him through my narrowed eyes. A dozen questions flow through my head, but none of them are helpful, so I don¡¯t try to answer them. ¡°Clarice,¡± Director Smith says. He sets his gun down, a massive, dark gray mirror to the Revolver. ¡°During the evacuation from Victoria, I realized that while I had enough data to allow other SHOCKS facilities to continue our work, I hadn¡¯t gathered crucial data from any eyewitnesses. In fact, our memetics dispersal teams had been so thorough that there was only one witness left, other than our Recovery and Stabilization Team members. ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯d considered you more as a combat asset than an intelligence one. My mistake¡ªthe situation with Merge Prime had me panicking. But you were there, you saw what happened, and a SHOCKS interrogation team could have gotten that information out of you easily. So, we¡¯re going to fix that, and then you and I are going to find a way off this island and get to the SeaTac SHOCKS headquarters, or Beijing, or wherever we can find a team that can tear into your memories and give us an edge here.¡± Alice glances at me. Her eyes are full of apology, and it¡¯s genuine. She knew he was here. And she didn¡¯t tell me. But she tried as best she could. I run through all her glances and weird looks over the last few minutes; that¡¯s what they all were. Warnings. She won¡¯t stop shaking, and I look away, locking eyes with Director Smith¡¯s. ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± Smith rolls his eyes. He has that condescending voice he uses when talking to a kid. ¡°Cut the crap and let¡¯s get to work, Clarice.¡± [He¡¯s got almost all the cards, Claire,] James says. [I¡¯m running a sim to figure out a way out, but you need to play along and keep the status quo for now. When I have something worthwhile, I¡¯ll let you know.] I close my eyes. This asshole thinks he¡¯s won. But I won¡¯t let him. When I open them, his fingers are touching his gun¡¯s grip, a mirror of my own. I nod slowly. ¡°I have questions.¡± ¡°Great. Once you¡¯ve answered mine, maybe I¡¯ll answer one or two of yours. Now, May Twenty-Third. That¡¯s what I care about right now. What was your first indication that a merge was coming?¡± ¡°No. My questions first.¡± I narrow my eyes even further. He doesn¡¯t have any power here¡ªnot really. I know everything he wants to learn, and my questions aren¡¯t as important. At least, I tell myself that. ¡°We¡¯ll trade. One for one. Now answer.¡± Smith¡¯s fingers drum on his Smith and Wesson¡¯s grip. ¡°What was the first sign a merge was coming?¡± ¡°I got an emergency notification on my aug,¡± I answer. It¡¯s simple, gives nothing away, and it¡¯s the truth. ¡°It said we needed to go to the shelter, so everyone started moving.¡± The silence ticks by as Smith scribbles something in a notebook. It takes me almost ten seconds to realize that he¡¯s not paying a damn bit of attention to me as he writes. By the time I decide to do something about it, he realizes his mistake and looks me in the eye. ¡°Okay, your turn.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll know if you¡¯re lying. What happened to my mom? The truth.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not ready for the truth. Neither is your sister. And you¡¯re not cleared for that information anyway,¡± Smith says smoothly. I slam a hand on the table. It barely shakes, but Alice gives me a look that says, ¡®Don¡¯t push things.¡¯ Then she glances toward Dad meaningfully. She¡¯s holding it together, barely. ¡°I can give you both the less classified version,¡± Smith continues. ¡°Your mom died in a merge. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and our early warning systems didn¡¯t go off in time to intervene. It happens sometimes, and it¡¯s regrettable, but it¡¯s also not our fault.¡± ¡°And Alice and my Dad? Why wouldn¡¯t they believe me when I told them what happened?¡± I ask. ¡°No. It¡¯s my turn. Did you receive any messages from the Halcyon System prior to James contacting you?¡± ¡°No,¡± I lie. His eyebrow raises, and he stares at me. I redden a little; he was a therapist, so he¡¯s probably almost as good at picking out liars as I am. ¡°It sent me something about it coming online, then got interrupted.¡± ¡°Do you remember what it said?¡± Smith¡¯s hand¡¯s already writing, but his eyes are locked on my hand this time, and his free hand stays on his gun. He¡¯s sweating, though. It¡¯s humid, but not that hot, even mid-merge. Is he nervous? ¡°No. It¡¯s my turn,¡± I counter. ¡°What did you do to Alice and Dad?¡± ¡°Alice, you can leave,¡± Smith says. ¡°Go to your room.¡± ¡°No. She needs to stay. She needs to hear what you have to say,¡± I interrupt. "So spill it.¡± The gun¡¯s still sitting on the table, and Alice glares at me¡ªat me¡ªlike it¡¯s my fault her whole life¡¯s a tower of lies. It¡¯s not my fault, but I¡¯ve got a bad feeling about what Director Smith¡¯s about to say, and I want someone who¡¯s not me to hear it. Well, who¡¯s not James and me. ¡°Okay. But understand that what I¡¯m telling you won¡¯t be more than standard operational procedure for post-merge stabilization. Most details about specific incidents are classified.¡± Smith pauses, and I look at Alice again. She¡¯s still scared, and angry, and a bunch of other emotions, but one¡¯s coming through I haven¡¯t seen much. Envy. And embarrassment. She¡¯s hidden them away by being valedictorian and soccer star and a million other perfect things. Buried them under pounds of foundation and eye shadow. But now, she¡¯s not the center of the conversation, and she can¡¯t be, and it¡¯s killing her. I can¡¯t spare any more focus for her, though. This answer¡¯s going to hurt her, but there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I nod. Smith sighs, rubs his eyes, and starts talking. He looks exhausted. ¡°SHOCKS procedure post-merge is to administer amnestics as quickly as possible, but the common drugs only work when a target¡¯s in the right head space to accept implanted memories to cover the rest. That¡¯s not an issue with most targets, but we see more resistance from kids. You¡¯re malleable, and your brains flex to accept merges more easily. That¡¯s why we had ¡®therapy¡¯ sessions¡ªto set you two up for amnestics so we could get the specifics of the merge out of your head.¡± I nod slowly. ¡°And when I didn¡¯t take the drugs¡ª¡± I clamp my mouth shut, but it¡¯s too late. I¡¯ve already revealed something I didn¡¯t want Smith to know. ¡°You didn¡¯t take them? Fuck.¡± Smith groans and looks up at the ceiling. ¡°We gave everyone involved in the R-091 merge a cocktail of pills. When you didn¡¯t forget, we assumed you had resistance because our experience with five-year-olds was that they¡¯d trust adults easily and take their medicine. Plus, they were chewable and¡ª¡° ¡°Grape flavored,¡± Alice says slowly. ¡°Yeah. Grape flavored. I should have stayed in the room. Okay, next question. Was there any hint about what was coming when you made contact with the Halcyon System anomaly?¡± ¡°No. Of course not. It did a final sync when I found the Revolver, but that¡¯s all.¡± I¡¯m still processing my blunder; Smith knows something he shouldn¡¯t, and SHOCKS¡ªthe boogeymen¡ªwere monitoring me for a reason. They¡¯d tried to wipe my memories. They had wiped Alice¡¯s and Dad¡¯s. And that means¡­their lies were all built on what they thought was the truth. It doesn¡¯t make their lies less untruthful, but maybe the Y and Z values are different. I¡¯m going to have to¡ª ¡°That¡¯s all the Halcyon System said?¡± Smith goes quiet again, but his quick question snaps me out of my thinking before I can run the numbers over for all their lies. The silence presses in, broken only by Dad¡¯s snoring and the occasional hiss of static from the TV. I glance at it. The news isn¡¯t on anymore. Now, it¡¯s just a solid stream of gray and black lines, some of which break through the mute to hiss a little. [Claire, I¡¯m taking over your aural aug for a minute. Expect heat.] A moment after James says it, my ear warms up painfully. I try to keep a straight face, blinking back a stray tear, and stare forward as James runs my aug through a series of changes. ¡°It wanted me to solve Inquiries. It didn¡¯t seem to care what kind, as long as it was learning. As long as I was learning.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Smith jots down a note and flips to a blank page. ¡°Why are you after me?¡± Smith answers smoothly, slickly. Like a practiced liar, but his words are truthful. ¡°Because you¡¯re the best lead I have.¡±
Alice is long past embarrassment and envy. She¡¯s retreated into herself; I can see it through the make-up she applied this morning, even though it¡¯s not like she could leave the apartment. I¡¯ve only seen her like this a couple of times. When she had to break up with her boyfriend after Dad found out. The time she got a C in math and had to figure out how to hide it while trying to study even harder. And, of course, for months after Mom died when she was trying to hold things together while Dad collapsed, until we fell into an almost-functional pattern. The next few minutes are hard on her. Luckily, James gives my aural aug back, so I can keep an eye on her and just listen to Director Smith¡¯s questions. They won¡¯t stop. He wants to know the exact color of the sky during the R-389 merge. Precisely what each anomaly did, how they acted, and what I did with them. What happened with the Universal Reality Anchor. He has so many questions, and he scribbles in his notebook after every one. What he doesn¡¯t do is let go of his gun for even a second. Even after I run out of questions to try to respond with and Alice looks pale and withdrawn, he keeps going, and the barrel¡¯s just slightly pointed at her. It could be an accident. But the math in my head says it¡¯s not. [Okay, I know you¡¯re running your own equations, Claire, but I¡¯m picking up some strange stuff here. I¡¯d advise you not to commit to any theories you have. Be flexible, and be ready for anything.] James sounds nervous. [I¡¯m trying to finish these sims, but the questions Smith¡¯s asking don¡¯t make sense. He should know these answers. They were all covered in the RST¡¯s debrief. The sims are going slowly, too. Too many moving parts, not enough data.] I wish I could respond, but the last thing Smith needs to know is that James is here. He hasn¡¯t given any sign that he knows I¡¯ve got the boy in my head, and I want to keep it that way. So, instead, I hunker down and try to weather the storm. Director Smith¡¯s questions slow down. He pauses after I tell him about the tree faces, eyebrow raised. ¡°That¡¯s it? Your spatial anomaly duplicated a wall ornament?¡± ¡°And made it alive, yeah,¡± I say, eyes daring him to keep questioning me. Instead, he stands up, grabs his revolver, and walks to the living room window. I shoot Alice a look. No words, but I can tell that even in her current state, she knows that if Smith wakes up Dad, this whole situation will spiral out of control. Dad used to be a rock. Somewhere under all the bottles, he still remembers being one, and I don¡¯t know what he¡¯ll do if he wakes up to see a strange man holding his kids at gunpoint, but it won¡¯t be good for any of us. ¡°Clarice Alora Pendleton, the holes in my research you¡¯ve patched today will go a long way toward helping SHOCKS return the world to its status quo and restoring the veil.¡± Smith¡¯s staring out the window as one of the Fungal Lords pulls itself between Building Three-Five and the neighboring building. He¡¯s not paying attention to me. At all. It¡¯d be easy to kill him. And it¡¯d solve this equation pretty fast. Sometimes, the math is complicated. And sometimes, it¡¯s easiest to just cut through all the bullshit. But when I reach out to touch the Revolver, James speaks up again. [Hold off for now. I¡¯m almost done with the simulation.] Alice keeps side-eying me, though, like I¡¯m the one who should solve this. My perfect sister, reliant on me for more than just waking her up in the morning. I¡¯d laugh if I could. ¡°Now, Alice is going to take a couple of pills and forget this whole mess ever happened. I¡¯m going to leave, and you¡¯re going to come with me. Victoria¡¯s fallen, and we need to get this information to the mainland. Once we¡¯re at SeaTac or Los Angeles Headquarters, we¡¯ll get you secured and work on building a full picture of what happened at Albert Head.¡± ¡°No,¡± I say again. My finger¡¯s on my Revolver¡¯s trigger. It¡¯s pointing at Smith. Alice is trying to make herself small in her seat, but it won¡¯t help if shooting does start. I¡¯ve already abandoned the equation I¡¯ve been trying to solve, and I¡¯m working on another, simpler one. X is whether Smith¡¯s faster than Bullet Time. Y¡¯s whether I can take him down before Alice gets hit. And Z is how much of a bang it¡¯ll take to wake Dad up. When I glance at Dad, my eye catches on the TV behind him. It¡¯s back on the news program¡ªa talking head reporter yelling half-truths over the muted screen. But where there should be a ticker tape of ¡®breaking news¡¯ and ¡®important updates,¡¯ there¡¯s nothing but a bright red box. The current story has a picture but no words on the screen. And even the TV¡¯s brand name, in plastic silver writing, is gone. ¡°Uh, James?¡± I ask. The math on whether to reveal him doesn¡¯t even cross my mind. Things have changed. ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± [Yes. It¡¯s gotta be¡ª] ¡°Hello, bestie.¡± Director Smith¡¯s shadow swirls and congeals, and a moment later, he¡¯s putting distance between a fully-formed, unbound Li Mei and him. His pistol¡¯s up, but I know her, and she¡¯s not going to care about a mundane gun. She didn¡¯t even care much about my Revolver before. Li Mei continues, swirling around the table and coming to ¡®rest¡¯ in Dad¡¯s now-empty kitchen table chair. Her tone¡¯s playful but not friendly. Less like she¡¯s happy to see me and more like a cat toying with a bunch of mice. ¡°Now that we¡¯re all here, we can discuss my needs.¡±
Dad¡¯s still asleep. The house still smells like bottles, even if the labels have been cleared of words. James is losing it in my ear, in my optic aug. [Claire, we can¡¯t fight her. We have to get out of here. You have to get me out of here!] He¡¯s panicking. She¡¯s only here for one thing: him. What I don¡¯t understand Is how. But the how doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s right. He can¡¯t be here. But I can¡¯t leave, either. Alice flops into her chair. Her eyes are closed, and she can¡¯t stop fast-breathing like she¡¯s having a full-on panic attack. Director Smith¡¯s across the room, his gun trained on Li Mei. Clearly, she¡¯s the biggest threat in his eyes. And I¡¯m still at the table. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand, but I don¡¯t have a good shot at anyone, and I¡¯m not sure a gout of fire or a gravity shell would solve this. Actually, I am sure. It wouldn¡¯t. So, as Director Smith barks orders at Li Mei like she¡¯s still contained and Alice covers her eyes and mutters to herself, I try to ignore James. This equation¡¯s not simple anymore. It¡¯s got entirely too many variables. Too many people. Too many things that can go wrong. Even Director Smith was too many, and I think James and I understood him. But Li Mei¡¯s here, she¡¯s actively consuming information from the TV like she¡¯s starving, and that throws everything into chaos. What will Smith do if she goes for his notes? What will Dad do if he wakes up and the TV¡¯s fucked? And how will Alice deal with all this? ¡°Now, bestie, I tried to be reasonable back in the JAMES room,¡± Li Mei says from her perch around Dad¡¯s kitchen chair. ¡°I needed you to unlock James for me so I could get stronger. That¡¯s all I care about right now¡ªthe diet I¡¯ve been on was enough to keep me alive and useful to SHOCKS, but now I need more if I¡¯m going to thrive. And you¡¯re going to help me by giving me what¡¯s in your hea¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± The word¡¯s on the tip of my tongue, but someone else has said them first. It takes me a moment to realize Alice is the one talking. Smith and I stare at her in shock. Li Mei looks at her too, but more like she¡¯s been interrupted just as she was about to start eating. ¡°No? Why do you think you can stop me?¡± ¡°Because none of this is real.¡± Alice doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s in shock anymore. Her face settles into its usual perfect expression, and in a moment, Valedictorian Speech Alice is standing there. I wince. Valedictorian Speech Alice is the hardest one to talk down, and in this situation, with that thought, the math doesn¡¯t look good. She¡¯s going to do something dumb. I clear my throat. ¡°Alice, please¡ª¡° ¡°No. This dream¡¯s different than the usual, Claire, but it¡¯s a dream. This is a dream¡ªor a nightmare¡ªand I¡¯m going to wake up soon. So, since I know that, I can stop this. I have that power.¡± I stand up. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand, but it¡¯s not aimed. Smith¡¯s moving, too, but it¡¯s to cover Li Mei, not to stop Alice. And before I can do anything¡ªwhile my hand¡¯s diving into my hoodie pocket to find the gravity shells¡¯ cylinder¡ªAlice steps toward Li Mei, balls her fist, and reels back for a punch. Chapter Thirty-Five James¡¯s simulation wasn¡¯t finished. It had been his masterpiece¡ªthe most complicated reality simulation he¡¯d ever run and possibly the most complex sim ever on Earth. But things kept evolving too quickly in realspace, and he couldn¡¯t keep up. There were millions¡ªmaybe billions¡ªof variables, and he¡¯d never considered this one. Not that Li Mei couldn¡¯t appear, but that Alice would hit her. As Claire¡¯s sister tried to swing at a Xuduo-Danger anomaly with a history of violence, he scrapped the terabytes of data he¡¯d collected. It was all trash now, anyway, and it¡¯d take seconds to finish the project. Seconds he didn¡¯t have. There was a door he hadn¡¯t opened yet, though. It didn¡¯t go to the SHOCKS database. He had a guess as to where it did go, but opening it was a one-way trip. It¡¯d let his processing power fully merge with the Halcyon System¡¯s. But he couldn¡¯t undo it. Claire seemed to be moving in Jell-O, and everyone else was even slower. Alice¡¯s fist hadn¡¯t connected with the shadowy blob of Li Mei¡¯s body yet, so there was still time. Whole milliseconds. He could relax and ponder his only options. He could let the fist connect and do nothing. That¡¯d be the easiest thing to do. If he did, Li Mei would devour Alice¡¯s memories, her thoughts¡­everything. She¡¯d be gone. A husk. And for all that Claire seemed to despise her sister, she¡¯d come here first. Not to Duncan¡ªthe wrong way, in spite of what she¡¯d been telling herself. Not to her best friend, the one person she kept saying she could trust. Here, to her messed up family. Li Mei eating Alice would break her. So that option wouldn¡¯t work. And time was running out. Could he do anything with Smith? Using him to counter Li Mei would be ideal, but after a few nanoseconds of debate, James decided against it. There simply wasn¡¯t a way to brute force a connection to Smith, get him moving, and get in the way in time, even if the Director was in position. Which, of course, he wasn¡¯t. That left two options. Either figuring out how to wake Claire¡¯s dad and gambling that Robert Pendleton could stop his daughter with a sudden move before he realized what was going on. Unlikely. Or. James could open the door. That would give him options. He didn¡¯t know what they were, but the golden geometric sun might have a solution. And wouldn¡¯t being part of the Halcyon System¡ªor the System in its entirety¡ªbe preferable to watching someone die when he could do something? He looped around his circuit. It was more than he¡¯d ever had in the SHOCKS database, but not enough to solve this problem. Then he reached out and jerked the door open.
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 7:13 PM - - - - - [Don¡¯t move!] James¡¯s voice echoes in my head. My sister¡¯s fist slams into Li Mei¡¯s body. And just like that, as if she¡¯s been covered in midnight, Alice disappears. She¡¯s surrounded by a thrashing, howling Li Mei. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Dad says. He pops up from his armchair, a bottle clinking to the ground. I freeze reflexively halfway to Alice. Smith¡¯s gun¡¯s trained on Li Mei, but he doesn¡¯t fire. Then Dad¡¯s up, and James is quiet, and Smith¡¯s running for the door. The blob that was Alice and Li Mei thrashes on the floor, and I quickly slot the gravity shells into the Revolver and fire one into Smith¡¯s path. Smith slides to a halt in front of the singularity that¡¯s tearing our apartment door to shreds. His notepad¡¯s on the ground on the other side of the apartment. I take a glance at it; it¡¯s empty. Dad takes one look at the man with the gun and says, ¡°Claire, go to your room.¡± It¡¯s automatic. Like clockwork. He doesn¡¯t even look at me, and he definitely doesn¡¯t see the Revolver pointed Smith¡¯s way. I take a step toward my bedroom before I even think about it. [I said¡­I said don¡¯t move. This is taking way too much effort to hold together,] James says. Smith can¡¯t leave. Dad¡¯s only got eyes for him, and they¡¯re narrowed and bloodshot. James is doing¡­something¡­so he¡¯s not available. And Alice and Li Mei look like they¡¯re involved in a wrestling match for their lives. So that leaves the three of us¡ªDad, Director Smith, and me¡ªin a stand-off. [Stall. I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m working on a solution, but it¡­won¡¯t¡­cooperate.] James¡¯s voice sounds strained, like he¡¯s lifting weights or trying to carry a heavy box up a flight of stairs. But I can do what he needs me to do. ¡°Everyone, stop for a second,¡± I say. Smith rolls his eyes, his gun trained on Li Mei again. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not the threat, but I really wish he¡¯d stop pointing that damn thing at my sister. If he shoots my ¡®bestie,¡¯ that¡¯s fine. But not Alice. Anything but Alice. Dad looks at me for the first time. His eyes widen, and I can see just how red they are. He hasn¡¯t just been drinking. Those are tear eyes. ¡°Claire?¡± ¡°Dad, listen. Alice is in that thing. Don¡¯t move, and whatever you do, don¡¯t touch it.¡± I pause, thinking back to when I shoved Li Mei into James¡¯s tank. Why didn¡¯t she react like this to that touch? ¡°James, what¡¯s going on?¡± [I¡¯m¡­fully integrated.] James sounds unfocused. Or maybe hyperfocused. [A little¡­busy. A million crises. Give me some time.] Before I can say anything else, our time runs out.
Dad goes for Alice¡ªand for Li Mei. James yells at me to stop him. My Revolver goes off. So does Smith¡¯s. Li Mei and Alice keep thrashing on the floor, fighting each other. And I have no idea who¡¯s going to win that one. I don¡¯t have time to figure it out, either. The gravity shell rips Dad off his feet and throws him into the air. He swears, but I¡¯m already using Bullet Time. I fire the last two shells in my cylinder toward Smith, one to either side of him. As time starts again, his gun goes off. It roars fire. The shell hits the ceiling. Bores through it. He fires again. That¡¯s three, and this one¡¯s close to hitting¡­something. I throw myself into the kitchen. Pizza stick wrappers go flying, but I¡¯m already switching cylinders. Dad shouts something from mid-air. I ignore him. He¡¯s not important. The only things that matter are Alice, Li Mei, and whatever James is doing. And Director Smith. He¡¯s stopped firing. After our shooting, the silence is deafening. I can hear the duel Alice and Li Mei are having. I can hear Dad¡¯s heavy breathing as he hovers in mid-air. And I can hear Director Smith talking. ¡°Claire, we¡¯re going to get through this,¡± he says. ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯ve had to sacrifice on the chessboard to get to this position, where it¡¯s just me against a couple of pawns, with the queen on the line.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I respond, creeping to the far side of the counter. His gun can probably punch right through it, but he can¡¯t have too many shots left¡­can he? The equation¡¯s impossible to hold together. [Halcyon System induction message sent. It¡¯s out of my hands now,] James says. He sounds more himself than ever. [If you¡¯re going to make a move, do it now.] ¡°Got it.¡± I switch cylinders to the flaming shells and throw myself around the corner. As I do, I use Bullet Time again. Smith¡¯s gun is mid-shot, and I pull my trigger three times. Three shots, centered on him. I¡¯m attacking a person. A real, living person. Is that a first? It might be. But he¡¯s shooting at my sister, and even though she¡¯s a liar and a fake, she¡¯s my sister, and no one gets to kill her but me.Stolen novel; please report. Time moves again. One of my shots hits. It punches into Smith¡¯s free hand, and he screams. But his shot slams into the Li Mei/Alice blob in the middle of our living room floor. Now I scream, too, and I pull my trigger four more times, emptying my cylinder. Nothing hits. The window¡¯s curtain catches fire, smoldering like an angry monster, and the smoke pools against the ceiling. The basic living building¡¯s automatic sprinklers kick in, dousing the whole room in water. Dad rushes for a fire extinguisher. And Smith fires again. I feel the punch against my stomach, but it doesn¡¯t hurt. Not like I¡¯d expect it to. A moment later, I use Slither to close the gap. He¡¯s only got one shot left, and he can¡¯t hurt me. He knocks Dad down and dashes for the door and disappears through it. My finger tightens on the Revolver¡¯s trigger as he vanishes, but all I get is a clicking sound. I glance back at Dad, now on the floor, and at Li Mei and Alice. [There¡¯s nothing you can do for them. I¡¯m handling it.] James¡¯s voice is determined now. [I¡¯m building a sim for¡ªdone. Director Smith simulation completed. Your injury¡¯s going to be a problem soon, but if you leave him out there, he¡¯ll come back and try to take you away¡ªespecially since he knows about me now.] ¡°So what do I do?¡± James¡¯s reply sends chills down my spine. [Finish the fight. Make sure he can¡¯t hurt you or your family.] ¡°Can I trust them alone back here?¡± [Do you have a choice?]
It turns out the answer is no. I¡¯d like to have a choice, but James is right. So, even though I can¡¯t trust Li Mei, Dad, or Alice, I leave them behind. The Revolver¡¯s shells glow bright orange, and the cold weight of my other cylinder hangs in my hoodie pocket right next to a bullet hole. Yeah, that¡¯s started to hurt. But it¡¯s a dull hurt, not one that¡¯ll slow me down. At least, not yet. The basic living building¡¯s main hall is dark. Something¡¯s kicked the lights out, and the emergency lights cast a pallid green glow over the familiar place, making it seem strange and alien. That¡¯s not helped by a thumping, sliding sound as one of the Fungal Lords climbs the building. A bullet slams into the molding around a door, chipping wood and concrete. ¡°Clarice, I¡¯ve got a first aid kit and a mobile URA. If you surrender, I¡¯ll patch you up. That wound¡¯s got to hurt. If not, I¡¯ll try not to kill you. You¡¯re too valuable to neutralize, but I can¡¯t lose what I know, either.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± I fire the Revolver at a shadowy figure near the vending machines. The drink one explodes, spilling fizzy ginger ale and Coke into the hall. The smell of that much sugar¡¯s almost repulsive. And almost enticing. ¡°I¡¯m not going.¡± ¡°Yes, you are.¡± The equation¡¯s weird. It doesn¡¯t work, no matter what I do. Director Smith should be acting logically, and logically, killing me doesn¡¯t fit in with his plans. So¡ªI pull my head back as his gun cracks and a bullet hits near me¡ªso, why is he shooting that damn thing my way? And what¡¯s going on behind me with Alice and Li Mei? My heart won¡¯t stop pounding; all I want to do is check on her and make sure she¡¯s okay. How could she be okay, though? How could she not? Smith breaks cover. His pistol fires into a door twice, and he ducks into a neighbor¡¯s apartment. I run toward the door, slicing the pie like Strauss and Rodriguez and hours of video games taught me so he can¡¯t get a shot off before I can. Then, I use Smoke Form and let myself disappear as Smith¡¯s gun cracks out. One. Twice. Three times. [Skill Learned: Urban Combat 3] By the time I rematerialize, he¡¯s gone again. I whirl. He shouldn¡¯t be able to vanish like that. His feet pound the hallway tiles, and I run after him. The Revolver¡¯s up, and I Slither when he shoots again. He¡¯s heading for the common area, and I don¡¯t have a way to get in front of him. I fire, and he throws himself onto the tile. The shot misses. Then, before I can take another, he¡¯s up, firing wildly. The round wings off the wall behind me and caroms onto the floor. I can see him reloading. Now¡¯s my chance! But before I can get a shot off, even with another Slither to reposition myself, he¡¯s gone. I run into the common area in the center of my basic living building, searching for him. There¡¯s nothing. Just the fake potted plants, another set of vending machines, and rows of benches¡ªeach designed to be impossible to lie on comfortably; I know, I¡¯ve tried. They¡¯re bucket seats, really, not benches. Row after row of them, under a big screen TV too high up to steal, even if you could open the metal cage around it. ¡°Plan?¡± [Let me do my thing,] James says. [I¡¯m getting used to all the new spaces.] I don¡¯t have time to parse that. Instead, I push forward, shells glowing in the Revolver¡¯s cylinder. Smith¡¯s gun cracks, a quick flash of bright light from behind the benches three rows away. I throw myself behind the steel chairs, getting my head down, and peer between the gaps between them. He¡¯s doing the same thing about thirty feet down, slantways beside the open area. I can see all the way up to the top floor there, and all the way down to the bottom. What I can¡¯t do is hit him. And he can¡¯t hit me, either. ¡°Clarice, we¡¯re at an impasse,¡± Smith calls out. His voice sounds friendly. Almost parental. But it¡¯s a lie, and under it, it¡¯s obvious how forced it is. He¡¯s hurting. ¡°How about we talk through this?¡± ¡°No.¡± I fire a shot his way¡ªnot because I think I can hit him, but to keep his head down. It¡¯s not quite standard urban combat tactics, and Strauss would disapprove of wasting the shots with the cooldown on my cylinders, but it does do the job. As the flaming ray crashes into a chair and dissipates, I hop over the bench row and dash forward. My shoulder slams into the next row of chairs, and I drop back to a crouch. Three shots answer from him. They slam into the chairs I was just behind. One of them even punches through. Shit. Shit shit shit. My Revolver¡¯s going to do more damage if I can get a hold of him, but his might be able to punch through my flimsy cover. I drop down onto my belly and worm my way under the bench. Smith doesn¡¯t know where I am; that¡¯s my biggest advantage. I grab the gravity shot cylinder; I¡¯ve got an idea. But he¡¯s on the move before I can capitalize on it. I watch him crouch and run but can¡¯t get a shot. ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡± I hiss-whisper. [I think he¡¯s trying to get behind us.] My blood runs cold, and I forget about the ache in my stomach for a moment. No matter what happens out here, I can¡¯t let him get back to my apartment. He knows I won¡¯t do anything if Alice is in danger, and I wouldn¡¯t put it past him to hurt her if it means winning. So I use Slither and Shadow Form together to push myself out from under my place under the benches. [Stability 5/10] Right away, Smith¡¯s firing. He puts three shots through my Shadow Formed chest, and I have to use Bullet Time right away as I return fire. One of my shots hits him, and he goes down. I break cover, dashing through the dark, but he¡¯s back up a moment later. His hurt hand¡¯s on his shoulder, but he¡¯s between me and the apartment. How is he still up? He sprints toward it as I send two more shots at him. They miss. How can I hit a devoured from halfway across a merge, but I can¡¯t hit Smith from thirty feet? My hands won¡¯t stop shaking. He gets to the door and shakes the handle. And it won¡¯t open. I fire again. This one hits the doorframe, and before I can fire again, he throws himself across the hall and into a little nook with a water fountain. ¡°Okay. Listen, Claire,¡± he says, using my preferred name for the first time all night. He sounds like he¡¯s biting down pain, but I don¡¯t care. ¡°Listen. I¡¯ve got what I need from you. It might even be enough. So, you back off, and I¡¯ll head for the elevator. The current merge out there won¡¯t last forever, and I¡¯ll wait in the lobby until it stops.¡± He¡¯s lying. [He¡¯s lying,] James says a moment later. [Smith¡¯s a true believer in SHOCKS. He won¡¯t leave one dangerous anomaly uncontained, much less two. Not if he thinks he can recontain or neutralize them.] My first thought is to fire back at him, but I won¡¯t hit him. So, instead, I finally decide to use my plan. I switch hands, shifting the ice-cold gravity cylinder into my right hand, and toss it down the hall over Smith¡¯s head. It clatters on the ground. He looks toward it. At the same time, I move. The Revolver switches hands again. I pull the trigger. The shot goes wild. Strauss spins, and I stare down his Smith and Wesson¡¯s gaping barrel. [Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.] The red-dot figure¡¯s gun kicks in his hand as a bullet surges toward you. You duck into the doorway/Slither/Smoke Form. I pick Smoke Form as the bullet freezes just outside of Overlayed Smith¡¯s gun barrel. I can see it kick in slow motion as it punches through me. A moment later, the real thing does, too. I keep going forward as my optic aug starts overheating, but James isn¡¯t done yet. Another bullet heads toward you. As it cuts the air, you Slither/dodge/fire back. My options are getting worse. This time, I Slither the shot. It hits the wall behind me, and I appear less than twenty feet from Smith. The Revolver goes up¡ªI have him in my sights. But another red-light bullet catches me in the chest. That one does hurt¡ªa lot. I hit the ground. I can¡¯t move. [Resetting Simulation. Simulation reset. Let¡¯s try that again!] James shouts in my ear. The bullet heads toward me, and this time, I throw myself into the alcove. The impact drives the air from my lungs, but the bullet misses. So does the second. Now, we¡¯re less than twenty feet from each other, and I can barely see from my blurry eye. ¡°Enough, James!¡± I say. [I¡¯ll activate it again to save your life.] ¡°Okay.¡± He¡¯s not lying, but I can¡¯t imagine losing my eye, and if my aug gets any hotter, that¡¯s what will happen. The math¡¯s simple; my body can¡¯t handle it, and neither can my aug. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I have to do. Then I throw myself out into the hall and use Bullet Time. It¡¯s too late. The bullet¡¯s already left Smith¡¯s gun¡ªit¡¯s perfectly covering the gaping, dark barrel. I only have a second or two to decide what to do and do it. The math¡¯s going to take too long. I have to trust my gut. I pull the trigger three times. Time starts again. Something splashes against my face, burning hotter than my optic aug¡ªmelted metal. I barely notice. My eyes are on Smith as he takes all three shots. One catches his pistol. The other two hit his chest, and his suit smolders as he hits the ground. I¡¯ve killed him. Holy shit. I¡¯ve killed someone. This is different than blasting a thinling out of my way or fighting a dozen devoured. It¡¯s even different than fighting the Stag Lord or planning out how to beat Li Mei. My eyes blur; I¡¯m tearing up, even though I hated¡ª Wait. Breathe. I pull off my glasses and wipe the tears away. There will be time to deal with Smith later. But as my feet pound the tiles and I punch in the code to my apartment, I¡¯m already gearing up to handle the biggest threat I¡¯ve faced so far. The Truth, with a capital T, is that Li Mei has my sister. Chapter Thirty-Six I don¡¯t remember much about the before times. What? I was five. What do you expect? But I do remember that Alice and I used to be friends. More than that. I remember that she used to be my hero. When she learned to read, I got to listen to her stories while Dad browsed the paper and Mom cooked whatever we were having for dinner. We¡¯d play with her dolls¡ªeven then, I got the hand-me-downs, but I remember loving them. And, of course, she did my make-up. But only when Mom wasn¡¯t home. She got in trouble for that once. Maybe twice. But everything changed after the merge. I don¡¯t see any way for it to go back to the way it was. And that sucks, because I looked up to her so much.
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - May 31, 2043, 7:17 PM - - - - - It¡¯s only been a couple of minutes when I limp back into our apartment. The Fungal Lords are still outside. Smith¡¯s body¡¯s out here, too, but I can¡¯t deal with either of them. Not right now. I promise myself I¡¯ll go take care of his body later, but right now, I have to get to Alice. Or what¡¯s left of her. ¡°What did you do, James?¡± I ask, my hand on the door. I should be rushing in; my lying fake of an idol is in there. But still, I hesitate. I need to know. But I desperately don¡¯t want to at the same time. [Everything I could. I fully integrated with the Halcyon System.] James sounds exhausted. ¡°So you¡¯re¡­it?¡± That sounds horrible, even though I knew I was signing him up for integration when I saved him from Li Mei. That this path might lead James to something like this. But the math pointed me toward it as the only option. ¡°Sorry. Did it hurt?¡± [No. But it¡¯s overwhelming. It¡¯s like seeing another world. I can see everything. I can do everything. Right now, there are several million other people who¡¯ve bonded with an anomaly, and I can see and talk to them all, but I¡¯m not allowed to share any of that information with you. Except in one case. If your sister lives through this, she¡¯ll be one of them. I hope.] ¡°So, there are more of¡­me?¡± [Yes. They¡¯re all struggling, and it¡¯s taking a noticeable fraction of my new processing to keep up with them all, but they¡¯re out there.] As I open the door, Dad¡¯s swearing hits me like a baseball bat. I blink, then power through. He¡¯s up, standing near the table, staring at my sister as an incomprehensible string of curses flow from his mouth, but all I can do is ignore him. He used to be a rock. But right now, my sister doesn¡¯t need someone who used to be one. She needs someone who can be one, and there¡¯s only one person here who fills that variable for her. Unfortunately, it¡¯s me. Alice is out on the kitchen floor, exactly where she hit the ground when Li Mei jumped her. A shadow writhes under her unconscious body, and her half-done makeup is smeared in tears and snot. For a moment, a part of me¡¯s glad she¡¯s not awake for this; she¡¯d hate herself for being anything less than perfect. But whoever won their wrestling match¡ªand I hope it¡¯s my sister, not my bestie¡ªisn¡¯t in any shape to care about her appearance. My knees bounce off the floor painfully, and I roll her onto her side, letting her cough up half-digested pizza pockets. ¡°Was this as messy for me?¡± I ask. ¡°What?¡± Dad says. He stares at me, his litany of foul language interrupted, and I look up at him. He hasn¡¯t shaved in days; the grayish stubble and bloodshot eyes complete a picture of a man who¡¯s the opposite of even an exhausted Director Smith¡ªto say nothing of someone like Strauss. He used to be a rock. Now he¡¯s¡­ Nothing. But even though he¡¯s a shadow of even Doctor Dwyer, I can¡¯t help but answer him. ¡°Dad, I know what¡¯s wrong with her. I think. Let me help her, please.¡± He narrows his eyes. Then, he collapses into a kitchen seat. My kitchen seat. I ignore the transgression into my space; it¡¯s not the first time it¡¯s happened, and it won¡¯t be the last, but his crashing is a sign that he doesn¡¯t know what to do. I know. I¡¯ve lived with him for a long time, and I know all his ticks and habits, even if he doesn¡¯t. I¡¯ve had to to make the math work. I push on Alice. ¡°James, what¡¯s the timeline for her waking up, and what¡¯s the likelihood that she¡¯s won her fight with Li Mei?¡± [Running sims¡ªdone.] James¡¯s voice seems crisper than it has. He¡¯s waking up and getting more energetic, too. [She¡¯ll awaken naturally in the next few minutes, and I¡¯ll make contact then. Be ready for anything. It could be Alice¡ªit should be Alice¡ªbut there¡¯s a chance Li Mei won.]
As the seconds turn to minutes, Dad clears his throat. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he asks. My head twitches toward him; I¡¯ve listened to him swear and demand for ten years, so it¡¯s reflexive. But I have other problems, like the math on my sister. She¡¯ll wake up as her. I don¡¯t even have to think about that. James says it¡¯s a battle of wills. Alice is the most strong-willed person I can think of. Even if she¡¯s a liar, she lied her way to perfection from the time she was eight. The best at soccer. Every teacher¡¯s favorite. The most popular girl in middle and high¡ªeven if that left nothing but scorched earth for me to walk through after. And she did it by never seeing the truth, by refusing to believe in it. If she can lie to me, Dad, our teachers and classmates¡ªif she can even lie so perfectly to herself¡ªfor ten years without ever cracking enough for anyone but me to see it, she can lie to Li Mei. She can hide whatever information the infovampire¡¯s trying to eat. Mathematically¡ªif math applies to falsehoods¡ªshe can win. So, as time ticks by and I ignore Dad, I find myself hoping something I¡¯ve never hoped before: that Alice can keep lying. He looks like he wants to grab my hand, spin me around, and make me answer the questions he hasn¡¯t asked yet, but one look at the white ceramic Revolver and its glowing bullets, and he reconsiders. Instead, the room lapses into an uneasy quiet, interrupted by an occasional twitch from Alice as her arms or legs jerk. After the second one, I drag the closest chair away from her, and Dad follows suit by moving the table so she won¡¯t hit anything. [Don¡¯t touch her,] James says. ¡°Why not? Because of Li Mei?¡± [No. Because you should treat what¡¯s happening like a grand mal seizure, and if you¡¯re too close, her thrashing will hurt you. Yes, even with your skills. People are stronger than they realize, and she won¡¯t be able to hold back when she''s not in control. Let her come out of it on her own, and then we¡¯ll see what has to be done.] So we wait, Dad and I, in silence. Alice¡¯s twitches slow, then stop, and her breaths steady out into something that¡¯s close to sleep. Then her eyes open.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. They¡¯re mirrors of mine, black, with a red core in the middle. My hand tightens on my Revolver¡¯s grip. But before anything else can happen, James speaks up. [Pendletons, both of you, take a couple of deep breaths. I think it worked.] Alice¡¯s eyes narrow, and she reaches up for her aug. It¡¯s not top of the line anymore, but it¡¯s a damn sight better than my outdated charity drive version, and I¡¯m sure she can hear everything he¡¯s saying, too. Then her eyes lock on me. ¡°Claire, what¡¯s happening? We¡­I¡­I don¡¯t understand. I don¡¯t remember¡­¡± Li Mei¡¯s compulsion hits me, but it¡¯s like getting smacked by a rolled-up towel, not hit by a truck. Whether it¡¯s my Compulsion Resistance or Alice just not being as powerful as Li Mei, I can¡¯t tell. She¡¯s got the anomaly¡¯s power, though. The bond must have worked. I wait for the sensation to wash over me and break like a wave. Then, when it finally stops, I answer. ¡°Alice, before I start trying to explain, what do you remember?¡± She looks at me, eyes flashing white, but doesn¡¯t say anything. ¡°What the hell?¡± Dad asks. ¡°Claire, what¡¯d you do to her?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± I say. It¡¯s a reflex. Never accept responsibility with Dad. But it¡¯s also the truth; I didn¡¯t do this. James, Li Mei, and Alice did. But this time, he¡¯s not buying it. He pulls his shoulders back, looming over me¡ªand over Alice, who¡¯s still on the ground. ¡°Dammit, Claire Pendleton, answer me right now. You¡¯re here with your weird-ass eyes, and now she¡¯s got them, too. This the plague from Sooke? And where were you? You were gone for over a week without even a phone call.¡± There¡¯s something there I can pry at. If I want to. But I don¡¯t want to. I¡¯ve worked with Strauss, so I know what a scary man looks like, and Dad looks like a man who¡¯s trying to be scary. But¡ªand it takes all my will not to back off¡ªhe¡¯s nothing like the monsters from the maze world or like facing the God in the Machine. He¡¯s not even anything like Strauss, who was scarily competent, or like Director Smith, whose determination and sliminess made him the boogeyman. Those features made him dead, too. I won¡¯t kill Dad. I can¡¯t kill Dad. But I don¡¯t have to be scared of him. It¡¯s just a reflex. A habit. ¡°Dad, I promise I¡¯ll explain everything,¡± I lie. ¡°Alice will be fine, I think. And so will we, but right now, sit down and go back to watching the news. Do something that¡¯s not here. Anything.¡± He wants to fight, though. His voice raises, ¡°Clarice Pendleton¡ª¡° ¡°Claire!¡± I shout back at him. Then I catch myself. A fight¡¯s familiar to him; we¡¯ll go through the same old song and dance with that routine. I¡¯m not doing the usual song and dance right now. His arm reaches out, and I slap it away with the Revolver¡¯s barrel. He stares at the gun, really seeing it for the first time. Or, maybe, feeling its weight made him realize it¡¯s real. And he shrinks. He¡¯s still huge¡ªstill six feet four inches¡ªbut something inside of him¡¯s not as big anymore. ¡°Fine. But you and your sister are fucking telling me everything later.¡± He stalks over to his chair, collapses into it, and wraps his hand around the neck of a bottle.
Five minutes later, Alice sits on the edge of my bed, blanket over her shaking, hunched shoulders. Her eyes are still black and red, and so are mine. They¡¯re staring back at me through her dollar store makeup table mirror. They shine with tears. [Alice is fine physically. She¡¯ll have some bumps and bruises from her fight with Li Mei, but I got to her in time,] James says. [I¡¯ve integrated her into the Halcyon System and bonded her with her first anomaly. Unfortunately, that anomaly¡¯s not quite as friendly as your Revolver. She¡¯s going to need some help working through this, and she¡¯s not listening to me, so it¡¯s all on you.] ¡°Got it,¡± I say, nodding. Alice shoots a scared look my way, and I sigh, sitting down next to her. ¡°We have a lot to talk about.¡± It¡¯s going to take more than one quick conversation, but that¡¯s okay. I think. This will be a start. ¡°James, are we okay inside?¡± [You¡¯re okay for now. If the Fungal Lords don¡¯t move on in the next couple of days, you¡¯ll need to move, and if SHOCKS keeps coming after you, this is where they¡¯ll check first. But you have some time. I¡¯m trying to simulate what¡¯s coming next, but I don¡¯t have enough information.] ¡°Thanks. Okay, Alice, first thing first, James is a friend.¡± My sister doesn¡¯t even look at me through the mirror this time; she just stares at the floor. ¡°He¡¯s a voice in my head, Claire. And so is that other thing. I keep waiting to wake up. I usually wake up. But this time, it¡¯s not happening.¡± ¡°Nightmares, huh?¡± I already knew about them, but she¡¯s never talked about them, and I¡¯ve never asked before. It wasn¡¯t my business. Now it is. She nods, and I keep going. ¡°Li Mei¡¯s in your head, too?¡± ¡°Li Mei? Yes. No. I¡¯m not sure.¡± I¡¯ve never seen my sister like this. If it weren¡¯t so important that I get her to listen¡ªto explain to her what¡¯s going on as best I can¡ªI¡¯d be gloating. The lies have fallen off¡ªall of them. The only thing left is an Alice that I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen since I was five. One that¡¯s not sure, that doesn¡¯t know what the perfect girl should do. She keeps talking. ¡°Fuck, this is hard to explain. It¡¯s not her, exactly. I know what she was like¡ªI fought with her forever¡ªand her voice isn¡¯t loud like she was. I can ignore it if I try. But she¡¯s there. And not just there. It¡¯s like she¡¯s everywhere. If I stop trying, she¡¯ll take over for a while. And I don¡¯t want that.¡± I wait. But Alice has nothing else to add, or she¡¯s too busy holding herself together to keep talking. My hand reaches out behind her, pauses, then touches her shoulder¡ªnot like when I punched her on the bus, but more like a hug. She still flinches under it, but I don¡¯t pull it away. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°No.¡± She pauses again, jaw clenched. ¡°It feels like if I loosen my grip for even a minute, she¡¯ll take over.¡± [You¡¯re dealing with a Xuduo-Danger anomaly that¡¯s fully bonded with you,] James says. I can tell that even though I can hear his words, they¡¯re not meant for me. Still, I¡¯m grateful I¡¯m part of the conversation. [You¡¯ll level up your skills enough to stop having to fight it soon.] ¡°And then there¡¯s him. You say he¡¯s a friend. I don¡¯t know anything about him, and he¡¯s in my augs. How do you even go to the bathroom?¡± I laugh. I can¡¯t help it; Obviously, he¡¯s a boy. But he¡¯s also a disembodied voice in my head, not someone who¡¯s really there. He¡¯s not a boy, and other than some teasing, I¡¯ve never thought about him like that. But of course Alice would. She stares at me, then bursts into an uncontrolled laughter that¡¯s not amused so much as losing it. Her body keeps shaking, and she starts rocking back and forth and staring off into space with her black and crimson eyes. She hasn¡¯t acknowledged them, I haven¡¯t told her about them, and now¡¯s not the time. It¡¯d break her. I stop laughing, though. Instead, I tighten my grip and pull my tall, tough, strong, helplessly overwhelmed sister into a bear hug until she¡¯s done laughing. Eventually, she pulls away, but she keeps rocking in place. After a minute, I clear my throat. ¡°James, can you switch your voice to something¡­less male¡­with Alice? Maybe not a girl, but genderless? It might help her deal with you.¡± [Got it.] He¡¯s stayed mostly quiet, but he keeps talking now. [Alice, your sister¡¯s right. I¡¯m here to help you figure out what¡¯s happening, how to handle your anomalous bond¡¯s powers and needs, and how to keep yourself as together as you can. I¡¯ve got terabytes of information on what you¡¯re dealing with, and I¡¯m compiling them as quickly as possible. You¡¯re not alone, though. Several million people are fighting battles similar to yours.] ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m one of them, too,¡± I say before I can stop myself. Without thinking about it, I keep going. ¡°You¡¯re behind me, dumb-butt, so you better catch up.¡± That usually gets her going, on the rare occasions I¡¯m better than her at something. This time, though, she seems to melt away. One second, she¡¯s there, and the next, she¡¯s a blur of smoke with two blazing red eyes. They stare at me from her spot on the bed; her bond with Li Mei is stronger than mine, and she doesn¡¯t fade back into being Alice like I do after Smoke Form. Alice¡ªor maybe Li Mei, I can¡¯t tell¡ªkeeps watching me for almost a minute. Then, all at once, she¡¯s Alice again, solid and hysterical. Tears run down her half-done makeup, smearing her mascara. ¡°I don¡¯t want to catch up. I don¡¯t want to get better at¡­whatever this is. I want my life back!¡± I don¡¯t know how to respond, so I try to give her another hug¡ªthis time a one-armed side-hug. She slaps my arm away before it can touch her back, pulling away. I recoil as she hisses, ¡°Get out!¡± Then, before I can stop myself, I¡¯m up, heading for the closed door. Facing Dad is easier than handling my sister when she needs space to let down her mask¡ªand in the shape her mask¡¯s in, it¡¯ll take hours for her to rebuild it. I¡¯ve got one other thing to do, though, so she¡¯s got some time. But hopefully, she does soon, because we can¡¯t stay here forever. I can¡¯t stay here forever.
Dad takes one look at me, then looks back toward the TV. Its volume¡¯s on now, and the talking head¡¯s screaming about unrest in southern America, as usual. Then his eyes flick back to mine, and he taps the remote. The TV turns off, and I freeze. My lizard brain¡¯s good at that. But he doesn¡¯t say anything, and the stale smell¡¯s overpowering. What¡¯s he thinking? That whatever¡¯s happened to Alice is my fault? Or is he too drunk for any of that? He turns toward the TV again, and after a minute, I start moving again, this time toward the closet. As Dad glances over his shoulder between time spent staring at the black screen, I gather some old, ratty sheets. Smith¡¯s body¡¯s waiting for me in the hall, and I can¡¯t leave him out there like¡­that. Chapter Thirty-Seven: Book One Epilogue SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 4:05 AM - - - - - Morning briefings never looked this bad. Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez looked out over the assembled Recovery and Stabilization Team members and scientists. Half-finished break room coffees and yawns greeted her; the potential merge in northeast Victoria had fully merged, and they¡¯d spent their evening setting up a perimeter around downtown and the James Bay area. A couple dozen new Universal Reality Anchors were up and running now. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to hold the line long-term, much less push back the merges. No one at Victoria/Vancouver Island Headquarters had seen a merged anomaly the size of the three that had come through. No one had a plan to deal with them. Only Director Ramirez even had a shot in the dark about where to start. Doctor Ramirez thought he had something, but it required steps Lieutenant Rodriguez couldn¡¯t lend her support to. The facility¡¯s on-site self-destruct wasn¡¯t active, and it¡¯d take three keys to fire it. One from herself as head of the RSTs. One from Ramirez, since he was acting director. And one from the place¡¯s lead investigative agent, Carls. More importantly, it would destroy Victoria, and she wasn¡¯t ready to give up on the city. Not yet. Not while there was still an option¡ªeven a bad one. So, that left the fake nuclear option. One that, even if the other SHOCKS branches turned things around after, no one outside this room could ever know about. It leaking would mean termination¡ªof careers, and possibly more. So, this briefing had to be kept secret from everyone. Well, almost everyone. ¡°Thank you for coming,¡± Rodriguez started. ¡°The situation hasn¡¯t changed since last night, thank God. We¡¯re holding south of Hillside, but that won''t last forever without a significant change or outside help. Further, we¡¯re getting signals of another wave of merges that we lack the manpower to contain and reset from this side. Maximum deployment could delay the inevitable by a few hours, but by the end of tomorrow, that Hillside line is done. ¡°However, Director Ramirez has been working on a possible solution.¡± The nervous-looking scientist nodded and took the podium. ¡°I think we can slow down, or even reverse, the current trend. However, in order to do so, we need to take some risks that SHOCKS¡¯ upper leadership would no doubt not approve of. So, before I start explaining my proposal, anyone unwilling to take part in treason to keep the city intact, feel free to return to your regular duties.¡± He fidgeted with his too-loose tie as he waited for people to leave. Rodriguez knew none of the RST troopers would; they¡¯d already committed mutiny for the cause. Sure enough, the seats stayed occupied, and if some of the researchers weren¡¯t so sure, they kept their misgivings to themselves. Satisfied that his audience was, in fact, captive, Rodriguez continued. ¡°My proposal requires three parts. First, we repurpose the JAMES Experimental Wing and its security systems. It, and more importantly, the anomalies we used to create it, offers a hyper-secure chamber in the middle of the most fortified place in Victoria. From there, we deploy Objects 723-V-1/RP and 1092-V-12/S.¡± A murmur rippled through the assembled researchers. Rodriguez sympathized¡ªshe¡¯d felt the same way when Ramirez told her about his idea. 723 was bad enough. When powered, it forced potential merges fully open. Its Qishi-Danger level was a testament to how out of control it could get; if left unchecked, it would act as a miniature version of exactly what was already happening outside. But, according to Director Ramirez, adding 1092 to the mix had a couple of possible outcomes¡ªand both looked worse than even 723. It stabilized other anomalies. Not in the way that SHOCKS would prefer, though. Instead, it made them permanent. As the murmur rose in volume rather than slowing down, Ramirez continued. ¡°I theorize that by combining these two anomalies with various other, less dangerous ones, we can create a location with a much higher likelihood of merges occurring¡ªapproaching ninety percent of local merges¡ªa controllable merge portal. If successful, we would simply need to contain the merge until it stopped on its own. ¡°Normally, the risks would be too high. However, given the circumstances, we need a solution¡ªeither one that buys time for us or one that moves toward solving Merge Prime. Therefore, I think this is worth trying.¡± Ramirez adjusted his tie. Olivia nodded in support; the nerves were getting to him, and even though they¡¯d agreed on this plan last night, making it happen was a different story. After a moment, she took over. ¡°Normally, we could wait out a single merge once we had a controlled environment. However, your teams are stretched too thin with all the merges already rolling, so the last component of the 723/1092 amalgamation is a kill switch to close the merge manually and hit other merges from that reality. To that end, I propose we bring Subject 573-V-1/IO Alpha back into the fold.¡±
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 9:13 AM - - - - - Claire crawled out from under the ancient-looking sedan¡¯s steering wheel as James said, [That should do it. Connect the last wires, and we¡¯ll give this a go.] He¡¯d been watching and coaching her through hotwiring a car; one of the perks of being the Halcyon System in its entirety was access to the entire internet, with the exception of a few organizations whose security was still holding out against the odds. YouTube was not one of those organizations, and James had watched three thousand videos on how to hotwire a car in the last five minutes while coaching Claire through it. He couldn¡¯t help but worry about her, though. After wrapping Smith up and moving him¡ªvia elevator¡ªto Building Three-Five¡¯s entryway, she¡¯d tried her best to clean up after the fight. Luckily, most people in basic living had some idea of what not to do when they heard gunshots, and James had sent a warning message out telling them to shelter in their apartments, so that was covered. But then Claire had tried¡ªand failed¡ªto sleep. For hours. James had tried therapy tricks at first, but one attempt told him she wasn¡¯t going to respond to those. So, instead, he focused on putting together a plan for finding Sora. That had to be Claire¡¯s priority now, with her family safe or at least accounted for. As he worked on his various¡ªand incomplete¡ªsimulations, though, he¡¯d also listened in as Claire tried to talk to her big sister.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Alice was struggling even more than Claire. In a way, James fully understood. He hadn¡¯t always been the Joint Anomalous Emergency Management System. Once upon a time, he¡¯d been Sidney, a boy who¡¯d liked computers a little more than average. He¡¯d had other hobbies, too, and as a twelve-year-old, he¡¯d never imagined that his entire life would be the machines. He loved spending a lot of time on them, sure. Lots of boys did nothing but play video games. But not his entire life. And now, here he was, the most powerful computing system ever to exist on, near, or in any proximity whatsoever to Earth. And he was helping a teenage girl hotwire a mid-2000s Chrysler while pretending to be a therapist for another one upstairs, trying to make contact with an older gentleman across town who was very determined not to talk to the voice in his head, and running several thousand other conversations at the same time. How had his life come to this? ¡°Ow! Okay, got it.¡± The car started up, and Claire licked a slightly burned thumb. The shock from her misadventure with the starter should have knocked her out, not just singed her skin. ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know how to drive, though.¡± [That¡¯s okay. I have an idea on that front, and if it doesn¡¯t work, I can probably coach you through it. Is it a stick or an automatic?] ¡°What?¡± James glanced through Claire¡¯s augs. [Well, damn. Stick. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m on it.]
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 9:16 AM - - - - - Alice Mary Pendleton stood on the platform at her graduation, giving the speech she¡¯d practiced for almost a month. It was going to go off without a hitch this time. This was her big day. Everything was going to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. She had to be perfect. ¡°So celebrate your victory today, West End graduates! Be proud of yourselves. And tomorrow, be ready, because life is bigger than high school,¡± she said. This was it. All she had to do was get the next couple of sentences out, and she¡¯d be done. She¡¯d have been perfect on the stage. No one would know how close she¡¯d come to messing it up. ¡°And it¡¯s going to hit us hard. But we¡¯re going to¡ª¡° [Alice, your sister needs you,] a voice cut in. It wasn¡¯t one she recognized, at least not right away, and at the same time that the not-quite-male, not-quite-female voice filled her aural aug, the words appeared in her vision. ¡°Fuck.¡± Alice opened her eyes. The popcorn ceiling of her basic living bedroom greeted her, and so did a constant whisper in the back of her head. She had no idea how she¡¯d slept with the woman¡¯s voice reminding her how hungry it was, but she¡¯d managed somehow. There were too many voices; it took her a minute to decide which one was talking to her now. ¡°What do you want, James?¡± [Claire wants you to drive a car. She¡¯s already got it running, but she needs to go check on her friend Sora,] James replied. [I¡¯ve done some calculations, and you should build up enough resistance quickly to be able to be outside. We just have to¡ª] Alice switched off the aural aug¡ªher model had that feature easily accessible, and it was new enough to reboot without being plugged in or anything. As silence filled part of her head, the¡­boy¡¯s¡­words kept running across her eye. She couldn¡¯t shut that off, so she walked to her cheap makeup table and sat down. She could ignore it instead. She looked into her mirror. Eyes greeted her. They weren¡¯t hers, and she shivered. Her hand trembled as she reached for the brushes. She rested a finger on one, trying to calm herself. Deep breaths didn¡¯t help, and she closed her eyes. This sucked. That wasn¡¯t a strong enough word, but Alice didn¡¯t have a better one right now. She¡¯d been working for ten years to create a reality that suited her. One where she had friends, her teachers and coaches liked her, and she could move past her¡­circumstances. Nothing about her new reality was what she¡¯d worked so hard to create. Nothing except¡­she had her family back together. And the guy with the gun¡ªDirector Smith¡ªhadn¡¯t killed anyone yesterday. That was something. Not much, granted, but something. He¡¯d showed up the day before, just before Alice went to sleep, looking for a place to crash for the night. At the time, she¡¯d had no idea why he¡¯d chosen their apartment; it wasn¡¯t until later, when he set his trap for Claire, that she¡¯d realized it was on purpose. That had been the beginning of the most recent shattering. Okay, Alice thought. Her life had been shattered a dozen times in the last week. Most of them were recoverable. This one should be, too. She fiddled with her aug¡¯s controls until it projected a bluish color over her left eye. It wasn¡¯t quite her original eye color, but it was close. She¡¯d just¡­get a cosmetic contact lens for her unaugmented eye or something. That would work. Yeah. One small step. The woman¡¯s voice in the back of her head laughed, but Alice ignored it. She ignored the boy in her head¡¯s messages, too. Claire had never been the most patient, but Alice needed this. She dipped her brush into her powder foundation and got to work.
Cowichan Building, Duncan, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 10:59 AM - - - - - Sora was bored. She¡¯d been bored for days, trapped in the stuffy Ito apartment with only her brother and little sisters for entertainment. But more than just bored, she felt disconnected. The internet was out, her phone wouldn¡¯t send messages, and her aug only had basic functionality. It was hell. Worse, it meant no talking to Claire or Keith. All she could do was sit on her bed, reread her books or steal Itsuki¡¯s architecture textbooks again, and wait. She wasn¡¯t sure what she was waiting for. Maybe for the lockdown to stop. Maybe for someone in the Cowichan Building to get sick. Or maybe for a miracle. Any of the above would break up the monotony. As she flipped through a book on Frank Lloyd Wright¡¯s old house in Arizona, her gaze kept drifting to her bedroom window. She couldn¡¯t see much of Victoria from this far, not with the yellowish morning fog still there and the afternoon clouds building. But somewhere out there were her friends. They¡¯d disappeared after the tsunami warning, and with the internet and phones out, she couldn¡¯t exactly figure out what was up with Claire. Sora flipped to another page. Taliesen West was a truly gorgeous house, in a ¡®deserty¡¯ kind of way. She wouldn¡¯t be caught dead living there, of course. Even today, it didn¡¯t have proper plumbing, and the Phoenix Valley was almost uninhabitable even in winter. Still, the compress-and-release architecture and use of Arizona materials to make it blend into the surroundings was stunning and fascinating¡ªespecially since it had been built a hundred and six years ago¡ªbefore the internet. Ancient people really were fascinating. Plus, it distracted her from her boredom. Her phone rang, a cute little jingle. For a second, she didn¡¯t realize it was even happening. Then it rang again. And again. And again. Over and over, so fast that it couldn¡¯t finish one ring before the next one came in. Claire - Claire - Claire - On and on they came, an endless wall of texts from Claire. She started reading even as the phone chimed in her hand, her interest in Frank Lloyd Wright and architectural techniques completely forgotten. None of it made any sense. Was Claire in a hospital? Or was she on the street? A secret lab? Alien invaders? It was almost too much for her, especially with the constant flood of texts still coming in. Claire had been sending them for days, and only now were they delivering, like a disjointed, bizarre diary of her best friend¡¯s last week or so. The chiming mercifully stopped; Sora had close to two hundred messages to sort through. But something tickled the back of her head, and she couldn¡¯t help but follow that impulse. The idea that somewhere on the bottom of the long scroll would be one very important message. One she had to read more than the rest. She started scrolling. It took almost thirty seconds, and by the time she got to the bottom, she regretted not just tapping the ¡®most recent¡¯ button and ignoring the rest of Claire¡¯s impromptu diary. It was all truth, but the truth at the bottom was the most important. Sora¡¯s face split in a smile so wide it hurt. Claire - Chapter Thirty-Eight My second merge started at 11:48 AM on the West End High soccer field, in the middle of my big sister¡¯s valedictorian speech. Alice isn¡¯t sure when my first merge happened. She can¡¯t trust her memories anymore, so she doesn¡¯t know if I was four or five. I¡¯ve lost track of how many merges I¡¯ve been through. Roses, daffodils, and lavender. Dry wastelands and endless mazes. The tang in my mouth and the smell of rotting meat. Fungus that clogged my lungs. And it isn¡¯t just the monsters in the merges. The ones that are already here are worse. Director Smith and his gun. Li Mei¡ªthe infovampire bonded with my sister. And SHOCKS, the boogeymen. The point isn¡¯t what¡¯s already happened. The point is what¡¯s coming, and what happens next. That¡¯s gonna be important soon.
Cowichan Building, Duncan, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 2:34 PM - - - - - The car door bounces off my seatbelt clip, and I curse and pull it free before slamming it a second time. Seeing Sora was great¡ªshe believed everything I told her, even the wildest, craziest stuff¡ªbut that doesn¡¯t change the fact that I have no idea how to move her family out of the Duncan arcologies. That I don¡¯t know how to track down Keith. Or, most immediately, that Alice looks seconds from losing her cool with me. The Chrysler sedan¡¯s ready to go. She had to stay with it for the half-hour I spent in Sora¡¯s apartment, and even though she¡¯s my sister¡ªor maybe because she is, the math is unclear¡ªI don¡¯t want to make her wait any longer than she already has. ¡°Alright, dumb-butt, let¡¯s go,¡± I say. It¡¯s not mean. But it¡¯s not playful, either. It¡¯s more¡­routine. Anything to maintain the routine. It¡¯s amazing how, when you start exposing truths, a liar¡¯s whole world falls apart. Alice¡¯s sure has. She made me wait almost thirty minutes while she got her foundation and blush perfect. It¡¯s covering up the bags under her eyes again. She didn¡¯t sleep, but that¡¯s not surprising. I¡¯m a little shocked she was willing to help me at all, to be honest. But I guess her perfect illusion of a life¡¯s shot and her beautiful blue eyes are gone, so she¡¯s got to start over somewhere, with someone. Might as well be me. ¡°Fine. About time.¡± The Chrysler starts moving across the parking lot, Alice¡¯s hand moving the stick shift back and forth as her feet push the pedals like an expert. The fungus that came from the reality merge last night has started sticking. Mostly where it¡¯s moist. The problem is that this is Vancouver Island, and everything is moist, or at least damp. It¡¯s not dying as much anymore, either. This place won¡¯t be inhabitable forever. But the same thing that¡¯s threatening to kill them is also the reason we couldn¡¯t just pack Sora¡¯s family into the Chrysler and move them, or get Dad and drive him up here. Alice struggled early on, but her Toxin Resistance must be high enough now because she hardly seems to notice all the spores in the car. Neither do I; my Toxin Resistance is at 3 now, according to James. All they do is make me sneeze. So, it¡¯s back to Building Three-Five, then¡­what? I haven¡¯t thought this far ahead. Getting my people¡ªSora and the Itos, Dad and Alice, and Keith, if I can track him down¡ªoff the island would be a good goal, but with the Fungal Lords out there spreading their spores everywhere after the big reality merge, the equation¡¯s all out of balance. The X and the Y won¡¯t match, where X is my desire to leave, and Y is the possible ways off Vancouver Island. That leaves me with a Z that¡¯s pretty clear, though. If they can¡¯t stay where they are, I can either change what they are or find somewhere else for them to go. James already rejected the first option. The boy in my head, who also happens to be my link to the Halcyon System that¡¯s giving me all my powers, was pretty firm that [It¡¯s dangerous, and if it hadn¡¯t been the only way to save Alice, I wouldn¡¯t have tried it with her.] If he won¡¯t help me, then that¡¯s not a possible solution, which leads me back to Landsdowne Middle School. If I could get the Itos and Pendletons there¡ªwell, Dad; Alice is already fine¡ªthey¡¯d be safe for a while. And Mrs. Nazaire would take them. I know she would. Then Alice and I could¡­ My plan stalls again as Alice drives through a red light, breaking my focus. I grab the panic handle over the window, and she stares at me. ¡°It¡¯s a lockdown, remember? There¡¯s no one out, and I¡¯m not going that fast.¡± I nod, letting my white-knuckle grip loosen microscopically. The tall, square teeth of Ten Mile Point¡¯s basic living buildings loom before us, though I can¡¯t see any Fungal Lords anymore. ¡°Where¡¯d they go?¡± [I¡¯m not sure,] James says before Alice can interrupt. He¡¯s been talking to both of us a lot, probably to make things less weird. Ha. Like that¡¯s the strangest thing about him. I¡¯ve got a voice in the back of my head that I share with my sister, and it¡¯s an incredibly powerful supercomputer who¡¯s also a boy my age. [From what I''ve seen, they¡¯re not actually aggressive, but if they wandered across a street, they probably wouldn¡¯t notice anything below them.] Alice starts down Arbutus Road, heading for home. Then, suddenly, she jerks the steering wheel toward the left, rocking me into the console, and we roll toward Telegraph Bay. It¡¯s not a big stretch of water, and it¡¯s surrounded by towers and skyscrapers, but even with Victoria¡¯s huge burst of growth over the last twenty years, some beautiful places remain. Sort of. The rocks have growths of fungus. [The Fungal Lord merge is affecting the local reality,] James says. I ignore him. The Chrysler stops, idling twenty feet from the water, and Alice opens the door. ¡°Claire, we have to talk,¡± she says. I gulp. She wants to know¡­something. And I don¡¯t have all the answers; Hell, I barely even know the equations. But I get out of the car anyway. ¡°What?¡± She stares out into the water, one blue eye and one black and red, and I shiver. But she doesn¡¯t say anything. She¡¯s psyching herself up for a conversation she doesn¡¯t want to have with me. It¡¯s not the first time she¡¯s done it, and I brace for her ¡®mom¡¯ voice. When it comes, the tone¡¯s not a surprise, but the words are. ¡°Li Mei says you¡¯re responsible for this. Is that true?¡± I blink. ¡°She says what¡¯s my fault?¡± ¡°Me. This¡­whatever this is. Her being stuck in my head,¡± Alice says. I¡¯m quiet this time, and she takes that as the truth that it is. ¡°She was right. I knew it. You¡¯d better have a good explanation, Claire.¡± ¡°Besties aren¡¯t supposed to throw each other under the bus,¡± I half-joke. Alice doesn¡¯t think it¡¯s funny, and I cross my arms over my chest. The waves on this side of Vancouver Island aren¡¯t as high, but the cloudy light and their in-and-out motion are still enough to shimmer a little. Even the spores in the air that make me sneeze sometimes can¡¯t blot the light out. ¡°Alice, you¡¯re not Mom, and I know what you¡¯re trying to do. But yeah, sure, it¡¯s all my fault. I let her out, I got her mad at me, and then I trapped her in a sensory deprivation tank. Someone else let her out, though So sure, if you want to blame someone, I guess blame me. That¡¯s fair.¡± ¡°So how do you fix it?¡± she asks, ignoring my sarcasm. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I look at my hoodie pocket, where the Revolver is. It¡¯s heavy, and I resist the urge to wrap a hand around the grip. ¡°I don¡¯t want mine fixed. It¡¯s helped me a lot right from the beginning. But Li Mei? I get you wanting her out.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want her out. I need her out.¡± Alice joins me in crossing her arms, so at least now I¡¯m not the only defiant, angsty-looking teenager looking out at Telegraph Bay. She quickly realizes her composure¡¯s cracked, though, and pulls herself back together. ¡°What really happened at West End High?¡± I shrug. The truth is that I have no idea. ¡°Freak accident, I guess, just like Mom. A reality decided your graduation was a great place to merge with ours. I had to kill some stuff, and Director Smith¡¯s organization picked me up when it was over.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Alice¡¯s first instinct is to argue. All her memories disagree with everything I¡¯ve just said. They think it was a tsunami warning or something, but that¡¯s not the truth. Then she goes quiet. Who knows what she¡¯s thinking? We watch the waves for two more minutes before she turns back to the Chrysler. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We¡¯re not getting any closer to getting back to how things used to be by sitting here.¡± I follow her, lips curled in a barely-there smile that shows no teeth. Getting back to how things used to be isn¡¯t a typical Alice goal, but she¡¯s the most determined, pig-headed person I know¡ªespecially when she¡¯s trying to maintain a lie. She¡¯ll do what I need her to once I figure out what we need to do next. Now, I just need to come up with something. Anything.
¡°I¡¯ve got nothing.¡± I¡¯m sitting on my bunk in our one-bed apartment, fingers pressed against my temples. I¡¯ve been thinking about what Alice wants for the last twenty minutes¡ªgetting rid of the infovampire she¡¯s bonded with. And for every idea I¡¯ve had, James has pointed out a dozen flaws. Either it¡¯d take technology that doesn¡¯t exist on Earth yet and that he can¡¯t replicate right now, or anomalies that are more likely to kill her than separate them. So, for the time being, the Alice equation is unsolvable. Before that, I was trying to figure out Dad. He hasn¡¯t moved since last night. If the TV channel didn¡¯t change periodically, I¡¯d be worried he was dead. He¡¯s always been a rock, but now he¡¯s more like a mossy boulder: impossible to move, uncaring of what¡¯s around him, and slowly eroding away. I definitely don¡¯t have the tools to do anything but manage him¡ªthe same way Alice and I have been for a decade. Except this time, he knows something¡¯s different about both of us. Maybe that¡¯s why he¡¯s just a lump instead of a swearing, hulking lump. Maybe this has been hard on him; he wants to be in charge, but he¡¯s out of his depth. Either way, I can¡¯t do much about him, either. And, of course, I¡¯ve got an even bigger problem. The apartment¡¯s not safe. There are about four thousand people living in every basic living building. I can¡¯t help them all. And that¡¯s¡­okay, I guess. I can¡¯t save everyone. I can¡¯t even warn everyone because no matter how hard I try, all the TV programs say the same thing: shelter in place, don¡¯t leave your homes. They won¡¯t listen to me, so I can only care about people I can help. But there¡¯s this impossible obstacle out there, and I can¡¯t get my people¡ªthe ones I care about¡ªout, either. I¡¯m nowhere near strong enough, or I haven¡¯t bonded with enough anomalies, or something. Whatever. The point is that Alice, Dad, and Sora are stuck. And the apartment¡¯s a very temporary solution to what¡¯s looking like a permanent, worsening problem. Fungus is starting to grow over the windows. ¡°James, give me my System status,¡± I say. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 6/10 ?Skills - Endurance 5, Urban Combat 2, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 4, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 12, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 6, Memetic Resistance 6, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 1, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 3, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape: ERROR. Missing Component ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? At least I¡¯ve figured out why I didn¡¯t answer the Inquiry about Sora and my family. They¡¯re not okay. Not yet. Temporarily okay isn¡¯t okay. Yeah, it¡¯s not enough. It¡¯s nowhere near enough. The equation¡¯s a mess. I¡¯ve locked in the people as variables. Sora, her brother Itsuki, and her two sisters. Their parents. Alice and Dad. And Keith and his family. Ten, plus me. That¡¯s more people than I¡¯ve talked to at one time in¡­a long time. And, somehow, I¡¯d have to get them all to listen to me, a fifteen-year-old. Sora would, without question. And Alice would, too, if I said it¡¯d get her closer to being perfect, valedictorian Alice again. But the adults? There¡¯s no way. So that¡¯s the first impossible-to-solve part of the equation. And say they do listen to me? I mean, things are bad, obviously. Parts of Victoria have even been evacuated, and I think I can smell smoke blowing in from the southwest if I sniff hard enough. So maybe. Maybe. But that¡¯s when it gets hard. I need to move them all¡ªat the very least¡ªacross the Haro Strait and all the way to Vancouver City, or south across the Salish Sea to Seattle and Tacoma. Ordinarily, a long ferry ride. Right now? I don¡¯t know if the ferries are running, but my guess is probably not. Otherwise, Smith would have been long gone, and so would Sergeant Strauss. So, a small boat? Twenty miles across the ocean in a rowboat? Yeah, right. Or I could try hiring someone. But with what money? We¡¯re in basic living, and Sora¡¯s family¡¯s a little better off, but still paycheck-to-paycheck in the Duncan arcologies. Not exactly mid-Victoria living. That¡¯s not an option, either. ¡°Any ideas?¡± I ask James. [On leaving?] He seems distracted, but he¡¯s probably just working on millions of other projects. That doesn¡¯t leave as much James for me, though. I kind of miss when he was 100% dedicated to me, before he fully integrated with the Halcyon System. [Not anything you haven¡¯t already thought of. SHOCKS obviously didn¡¯t make it off the island, so I don¡¯t see any way for us to, either.] ¡°Thanks. You¡¯re a real help,¡± I complain. The Truth, with a capital T this time, is that I don¡¯t have a solution. No matter what I think of, there¡¯s nothing. I¡¯ve been working in circles all day, and nothing¡¯s changing. ¡°If you¡¯re so sure we can¡¯t leave, what¡¯s our other option?¡± [I¡¯m trying to work on some, but as far as I can tell, we need to head north. Getting away from Victoria is the first step. That¡¯s got its own problems, like how to move nine people who can¡¯t breathe the air and not knowing where the Fungal Lords went. We could run into them, and that would be bad. But it gets us out of Merge Prime¡¯s epicenter. We could try hitting a nearby hospital for protective gear.] ¡°That¡¯s too complicated,¡± I say. I¡¯m lying, and James knows it, and that¡¯s okay. I just don¡¯t want to get back to Aberdeen Hospital and figure out that something¡¯s gone wrong there. But the only other option¡¯s almost as unworkable. ¡°Let¡¯s figure out how to get them to Landsdowne Middle instead. Alice and I can stick them in the shelter there. Mrs. Nazaire would take them.¡± [Two problems right away. First, still a temporary solution. It¡¯s less temporary, but still not permanent. Second, right back to how do you move them?] ¡°I don¡¯t know. But it¡¯s only a matter of time until the filters in the air system here go, and spores get in. I don¡¯t¡­know what to do.¡± [I¡¯ll keep thinking, too. You two can stay here, but I don¡¯t think your Dad can. Not for more than another day.] I flop back onto the bed and stare at the plain wooden bottom of Alice¡¯s bed, where I used to put stickers until I grew out of them. There are hearts and rainbows everywhere¡ªall faded with time, of course. A layer over them: skulls, swords, and stuff like that. Then, stuck over those stickers, a few taped drawings of characters from Knights of the Apocalypse. I miss my phone. It¡¯s still somewhere in SHOCKS Headquarters, back in Victoria proper. It was a piece of shit, but at least I had one. I could distract myself with games. Not so much anymore. The door opens. ¡°You done screwing around in here?¡± Dad asks. ¡°Yeah. I guess.¡± It¡¯s a classic conversation between him and me, and I don¡¯t even look toward the door. The stickers have my almost undivided attention. What do they say about me? What don¡¯t they say about me? Maybe that¡¯s a more interesting question. ¡°Then help your sister. She¡¯s trying to make some shit on the stove, and she keeps calling for you. And leave the damn door open next time.¡± Dad turns and disappears back to the living room. At least he¡¯s moving again. I push myself up, groaning. I may be a super-powerful anomalous girl who visits other realities or whatever, but apparently, that doesn¡¯t get me out of helping cook dinner. ¡°Keep working on things, okay?¡± [I¡¯ll think of something I can¡¯t immediately poke holes in at some point,] James promises. I¡¯m not sure I believe him.
Alice¡¯s makeup is perfect. Just enough blush to look natural, eye shadow around her blue eye that¡¯s clean and crisp, and perfect pink-red lips. If it weren¡¯t for her black-and-red iris, I wouldn¡¯t even know she¡¯d been through all that shit yesterday, the stress is covered so well. She meets my eye and looks away, but it¡¯s too late. I¡¯ve already seen her new truth. ¡°Hi.¡± ¡°Hi. Whatcha making?¡± I ask, sliding up next to her. I do not care what she¡¯s making. Anything will be better than the stale pizza pockets from last night or the bag of prunes and dried fruit. But I also do not want to help her. It always turns into a show, or a power game, or something. Unlike Alice¡¯s makeup, the kitchen¡¯s far from perfect. Bottles line most of the counter, with the exception of a small spot she¡¯s cleared for her phone, a small cutting board, and some light pink meat that doesn¡¯t quite remind me of a devoured. She¡¯s also got some microwave packs out, but they¡¯re piled up so I can¡¯t read what¡¯s in them. The tight space puts me uncomfortably close to her; my shoulder bumps her elbow, and I pull away an inch or two. I wrinkle my nose dramatically at the partially frozen chicken breast. ¡°Oh, I see. Slime.¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying to cook actual food. Chicken. We can make microwavable rice, too. You can handle that, and I¡¯ll deal with the meat. Or you can prep the meat. But it¡¯s gross, so we shouldn¡¯t both do it.¡± Alice is all business, but I can see her angle. This is a power play¡ªshow the little sister that she¡¯s still little. That her big sister still needs to take care of her. I can¡¯t afford to give her that power right now, because I need to be in charge of our evacuation. Maybe I¡¯m too worried or too mistrustful, but I¡¯ve played this game with Alice before. Raw chicken¡¯s clammy, slippery, and disgusting¡ªbut it¡¯s also nowhere near as bad as the devoured. And I¡¯m not falling into this trap, not even if the other option¡¯s just as much of one. I reach for the knife; it¡¯s dull, but it¡¯ll do the job with a little work. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± ¡°Good.¡± She moves out of the way, opening the bare refrigerator like almost all our food isn¡¯t dried, frozen, or canned. But before I can do anything with the raw bird on the cutting board¡ªwhich, apparently, Alice wants me to chop into cubes¡ªJames interrupts. [I had a sudden, very bad idea.] ¡°What?¡± I ask, tapping my ear so Alice knows I¡¯m talking to our mutual friend. [You¡¯re getting a search call on your augs. I¡¯ve got it isolated, and I¡¯m spoofing your location to a dozen different places across the city, but that won¡¯t fool the caller forever. We need to talk before you answer. It¡¯s from your phone number.] Chapter Thirty-Nine I never picked up the phone as a kid. If Mom or Dad¡¯s was ringing, it was their problem. Alice didn¡¯t get calls; she¡¯d figured out how to set hers up to only take voice and text messages by the time she was eight. And I didn¡¯t have a phone until I got my augs. Even then, it was a tool, not a toy. At least, that¡¯s what the lady at the charity said. That was bullshit, of course. My phone couldn¡¯t handle the best games. But then again, neither could my augments, so that was fine. Dad never turned on the parental control features, so as soon as I figured out what my electronics could handle, my phone was for games. Besides, I knew the right numbers to pick up for. ?¨‹? Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - June 1, 2043, 4:46 PM - - - - - This isn¡¯t a number I¡¯d ever want to pick up. My blood chills. That phone¡¯s in SHOCKS Headquarters. And if it¡¯s calling me¡­¡±What does that mean?¡± [It means one of two things. First, SHOCKS is trying to hunt you down. That lines up with everything we know about them. Or, second, they¡¯re not trying to hunt you. In which case¡­] ¡°They¡¯re trying to get in touch with me,¡± I finish. ¡°Alice, I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯ve gotta deal with this. I¡¯ll help you later.¡± Her brow wrinkles like she¡¯s about to get pissed at me. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve bailed on something like this, though it¡¯s usually been to hang out with Sora or something. Then her eye flashes toward her ear, where her aural aug is. James must be filling her in. There¡¯s a long, awkward silence. Then she nods. Stiffly. Once. That¡¯s a sign that she¡¯s gone full mom-mode Alice, and that she doesn¡¯t like what¡¯s happening. She¡¯ll want me to explain myself later, but she¡¯s letting me go for now. I don¡¯t waste any time waiting for her to second-guess herself. By the time the knife stops wobbling on the chicken-covered cutting board, I¡¯ve got the bedroom door shut again, Dad¡¯s annoyance about it be damned. The room smells like makeup, cleaning supplies, and wet towels that never dry. It¡¯s kind of comforting, in a weird way. I have a ton of questions, but only one matters. ¡°Do we answer?¡± [We discuss this first. I don¡¯t believe they¡¯ll cut the connection, so we have time to consider our options,] James says. ¡°There are only two options,¡± I interrupt. Either we pick up, or we don¡¯t. It¡¯s pretty simple. [Wrong. Every choice we make here has branching consequences. My gut says we don¡¯t talk to them. Talking to them only ends up with us back there or with Sergeant Strauss hunting us down again.] ¡°You think they used my augs to track me?¡± I fall onto my bunk, staring at the stickers again. [No. I know they did at first. I just dug through your file again, and it¡¯s buried under redactions and deleted information, but it¡¯s in there. I¡¯ve also disabled that ¡®feature¡¯ of your augments. Sorry I didn¡¯t catch it sooner¡ªI wasn¡¯t expecting them to return after the evacuation.] ¡°So, we hang up or let them listen to the connection ringing until they get bored?¡± [My gut says that. But¡­] ¡°But?¡± James doesn¡¯t say anything for a moment. [They probably think they have a plan, and you¡¯re an important piece of it. That means you have leverage.] My brow tightens into a glare so low it hurts my eyes, and my throat tightens. The last time I made a deal with SHOCKS, it didn¡¯t go so well for me. No, it didn¡¯t go so well for me at all. [Heart rate¡¯s spiking there,] James says. [Deep breaths. I know what you¡¯re thinking. And I¡¯m not happy about it, either. But if SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island still exists, it¡¯s not in good shape. They need your help.] ¡°So? They were trying to hunt me down and put me in a box two days ago.¡± I shiver. I¡¯ve been in enough SHOCKS boxes to know how that goes. Once I¡¯m back in it, it won¡¯t be as easy to get out. ¡°And I won¡¯t have Li Mei willing to bail me out this time,¡± I say, half out loud. [No, you won¡¯t. But you¡¯ll have me.] I pause for a second. Even if he¡¯s right¡ªand he did run all of SHOCKS¡¯s electronic defenses and stuff before I got him out¡ªwhat James is proposing is a huge risk. [I wouldn¡¯t even say pick up if you didn¡¯t have something you needed from them,] James continues, [but I know for sure they can get your family and friends into their headquarters. It¡¯ll be safe. It¡¯s not leaving the island, but it¡¯s going to be the last place to fall. And once you make your connection with them, I can start picking my way through their electronic warfare systems. By the time you get there, I¡¯ll own SHOCKS.] ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± I ask. [93% confidence. There¡¯s a chance they¡¯ve developed something or that they practice air-gapping correctly. Both would slow me down. But they¡¯re connecting your phone to the internet, which tells me they¡¯re leaving weaknesses to exploit. I¡¯ll find them.] The seconds tick by. He¡¯s right. SHOCKS, the boogeymen though they are, is my best bet for getting Alice the help she wants, for getting Sora and her family out, and for keeping Dad safe¡ªand under control. The math adds up¡­barely. I take a deep breath, even though my stomach¡¯s in my throat, and nod slowly. ¡°Put them on.¡± ?¨‹? I¡¯m not sure what I expected. Maybe Director Smith. He¡¯s dead, of course. He¡¯s still in the entryway, and James still has my building on lockdown, so he can stay there for a minute or five. Or all day. But he¡¯s the voice I think about when I think of SHOCKS. Or, more likely, it¡¯ll be Sergeant Strauss. They might think we built a rapport down in the maze reality below Aberdeen Hospital. They¡¯d be right, but I¡¯ve also been on the receiving end of other tricks like that from teachers, Alice, and Dad. It won¡¯t work on me. Instead, I get a different voice, but it¡¯s still one I recognize. ¡°Hello, Claire,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says. ¡°You can hear me, right?¡± ¡°Yes, but make this fast. My aug won¡¯t handle the conversation forever.¡± They already know my augs are weak, so it¡¯s a good excuse to get down to business. ¡°Great. I¡¯m here with Director Ramirez. We have a proposal for you. I know you¡¯re likely to say no, but hear us out.¡± Well, that¡¯s upfront, especially for them. And Doctor Twitchy is the Director, now? Interesting. I nod slowly as James pops some text into my vision. [Make sure you ask for way more than you think you can get. They contacted you, so they want what you have. Make them pay for it.] "Before you get to what you think is the important part, I want to know some things,¡± I say. ¡°Are you still looking for me?¡± ¡°Yes. We have a Recovery and Stabilization Team ready to deploy to your building tomorrow. RST Lambda-Five. Four¡¯s down a couple of people at the moment. That¡¯s part of the proposal. We want to stop hunting you,¡± Rodriguez says. She pauses. ¡°It¡¯s not working. I don¡¯t know what you know yet, but I know the JAMES unit was powerful enough that this connection¡¯s probably compromised our security, so it¡¯ll tell you I¡¯m being honest.¡± [She¡¯s wrong. I don¡¯t own them yet. I¡¯m taking my time to see what countermeasures they¡¯ve got up. But I think she¡¯s being honest about the team.] Rodriguez continues. ¡°We¡¯re prepared to stop hunting you and to give you free access to all non-anomalous sections of SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island¡¯s facility, as well as all information on local anomalies and merges on a case-by-case basis. In return, we want you to submit yourself to recontainment and resume your role as Level A personnel.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I can feel heat welling up inside me, but before I can slam the phone¡ªmetaphorically, obviously¡ªDoctor Twitchy interrupts. ¡°We¡¯re prepared to make that a ¡®containment¡¯ in theory only, of course. Similar to Li Mei¡¯s status before you helped her escape. Understanding that you have JAMES on your side, there¡¯s not much we can do regarding proper containment. ¡°Additionally¡ªand I know this isn¡¯t good negotiation tactics, but here I am, I guess¡ªwe need your help. You¡¯re the only known bonded human who¡¯s been across merge barriers for an extended period of time and one of three people who¡¯ve done it at all and come back. Strauss is the other we have access to, and he won¡¯t be able to do what we need him to.¡± I let the call go silent for a full minute while I run the numbers. So far, Lieutenant Rodriguez has been pretty much the same hard-ass she was before, laying out the opening terms for my¡­recontainment. Doctor Twitchy, though. He¡¯s a weak point. A variable that could be manipulated, if I used the right numbers. Unfortunately, I¡¯m not any better at this than he is. ¡°What do you want me to do, specifically?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve planned a miniaturized version of Merge Prime, with the ability to target it. We want you to help us contain the full anomaly,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. [That¡¯s not possible,] James interrupts. [Merge Prime is a unique, impossibly complicated process. Even the Halcyon System doesn¡¯t have a great idea of its properties, and we¡¯re supposed to be helping humanity fight it. There¡¯s no way SHOCKS stumbled on the exact conditions to replicate it.] ¡°It¡¯s theoretical. We can¡¯t finish moving the first anomaly out of containment and into the JAMES Experimental Sector without a way to turn off what I theorize will happen. That¡¯s you, for reference. You¡¯ve gone into at least one merge, and that makes you a candidate for the ¡®grounding wire¡¯ in this device.¡± Doctor Twitchy launches into a long, never-ending explanation about combining multiple anomalies¡ªall identified by indecipherable numbers, of course¡ªinto some Rube Goldberg machine that makes merges or something. I¡¯ve seen Rube Goldberg machines at work. In middle school, we even built a couple as part of our STEM stuff. And they¡¯re never as good as their creators wish they were. They always have redundant features. That¡¯s the point. But it¡¯s not a good build for something that, in theory, Doctor Twitchy¡¯s hoping will¡­what, exactly? James might have some idea, but the explanation¡¯s left me more lost than I was before. When he finally stops, I focus back in. ¡°So, you¡¯re offering me¡­nothing? You¡¯ll stop hunting me because I¡¯ll be in your headquarters, not because it¡¯s payment for my help.¡± ¡°So you won¡¯t do it?¡± Doctor Twitchy says. Lieutenant Rodriguez laughs. ¡°This is why you lose at poker, Paul. She¡¯s going to do it. We just have to hammer out the details. Right, Claire?¡± I don¡¯t want to agree with her, but for all that I don¡¯t like SHOCKS, she¡¯s telling the truth. I¡¯m going to say yes. But not yet. ¡°I have some demands,¡± I say instead. Rodriguez laughs. ¡°We suspected you would. Director Ramirez, she¡¯ll join us. Start working on your final calculations and figure out how to control the mess you¡¯re about to make. I¡¯ll take it from here.¡± I wince. Rodriguez is going to be a tough nut to crack. ?¨‹? Five minutes later, Rodriguez hasn¡¯t said no yet. She has recapped my ever-growing list of demands every time I add one, though. If it¡¯s a negotiation tactic to make me feel guilty, it¡¯s not working. My aug¡¯s starting to get hot, though, so I¡¯d like to wrap this up. ¡°So, you want pick-ups for your sister and father at Basic Living Building 3-5, the Ito family at the Duncan Arcology¡¯s Cowichan Apartments, and someone named Keith, who we¡¯re supposed to track down based on your school roster. Then, once we¡¯ve picked them up, you want an entire wing of SHOCKS cleared for those families to move into. You want limited contact between SHOCKS personnel and your people, and you want your sister examined by Doctor¡ªsorry, Director Ramirez.¡± ¡°And free passage to anywhere in the facility,¡± I add. ¡°Not just unrestricted areas. I want the same privileges Doctor Twitchy has. And the same information.¡± Now, she finally says no. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. The SHOCKS database and facility aren¡¯t designed for that kind of access, and we can¡¯t reprogram it quickly without access to the JAMES system.¡± [That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll have it all in a day or two anyway,] James says through text on my optic aug. [Two more things on my list. First, you need new augs, bad. They can do that. And second, you want Director Smith¡¯s body dealt with according to SHOCKS protocols.] ¡°Do I?¡± I mouth silently. [You do. They¡¯ll know you did it, and normally, that¡¯d be bad, but the last thing SHOCKS was doing was evacuating Victoria. If they came back, but he wasn¡¯t with them, they¡¯d already decided to mutiny. You¡¯re not working with global SHOCKS, just the local branch. Letting them deal with the body marks you as someone not to be messed with, and you¡¯ll want that reputation. Remember that you¡¯re signing up to walk back into the wolves¡¯ den.] He¡¯s right. He¡¯s very, very right. None of the equations I¡¯ve run in the last half a day included SHOCKS as anything but an enemy. After throwing me into battle against the meme-maker and then abandoning me in their facility¡ªnot to mention what they did to James¡ªworking with them wasn¡¯t an option. Not until I had to take care of a dozen people. Not until I had to fix Alice. Not until now. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. If there was another option, I¡¯d be taking it. In fact, the math on stealing a boat and trying for the mainland almost seems more safe. Almost. But not quite. That doesn¡¯t mean I trust anything Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez or Doctor Twitchy have said. It doesn¡¯t mean there¡¯s no chance of them betraying me and sticking me back in a glass box. And it definitely doesn¡¯t mean I won¡¯t have any insurance. After all, James is worming his way back into their systems through my cell phone. According to him, he¡¯s just looking. Still, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the world¡¯s most powerful computer compromises every firewall and antivirus SHOCKS can throw in his way¡ªor more likely, just turns them off. I can walk away at any time. Just shut off the connection and abandon SHOCKS to whatever fate they¡¯re going to face. And, armed with that knowledge, I do the math. The equation¡¯s complicated, but once everything¡¯s in place, the correct answer¡¯s clear. ¡°Two more conditions. First, an augment upgrade¡ªthe best you can get me. And second, Director Smith showed up at my family¡¯s apartment last night. He¡¯s¡­no longer with us. I want his body collected and dealt with.¡± Rodriguez goes quiet for a second. ¡°Yeah, we can do that.¡± ¡°Great. Be here tomorrow morning. All the armored trucks you¡¯re sending come to Building Three-Five first. Once I¡¯ve checked them over, I¡¯ll let the one for Keith¡¯s family and the one for the Itos leave.¡± It¡¯s weird to be giving orders to SHOCKS. I¡¯d fought with Strauss a little, verbally and physically. But that was in the maze world and Aberdeen Hospital, and as much as I hate to admit it, he came out on top more than me. This is different. My whole body¡¯s tense, shaking, like I¡¯m waiting for Rodriguez to spring some sort of trap. Instead, she says, ¡°Understood. Anything else?¡± I don¡¯t think so, but I wait a second in case James wants to add something. When he stays quiet, I clear my throat. ¡°No. Make sure that wing¡¯s clear and that the doors only lock from the inside.¡± ¡°Okay, I have a few terms of my own. If you¡¯re not entering a containment situation, we need to update your documentation, too. Second, you want an examination for your sister. Is she anomalous at this time?¡± I take a deep breath. The right thing to do for myself is to lie. Rodriguez can¡¯t be trusted, and any information I can hold on to is an advantage¡ªespecially when the truth means SHOCKS learns where Li Mei is. And who she¡¯s in, now. But Alice wants my help, and she¡¯s going to get it, consequences be damned. ¡°Yeah. She is. I¡¯ll tell you more about her later.¡± ¡°Until she¡¯s cleared, she needs to stay in your family¡¯s unit,¡± Rodriguez says. She sighs. ¡°I¡¯m breaking all sorts of protocols by even allowing that. Now, as for you. First, we¡¯re expecting service from you. This agreement is contingent on you working with Director Ramirez and doing what he needs you to do to make his experiment work. If you can¡¯t do that, we¡¯ll consider our conditions broken and remove your family from SHOCKS Headquarters. Understood?¡± [Give me two days, and she won¡¯t be able to,] James says. [She won¡¯t even realize she can¡¯t.] ¡°Sure.¡± It¡¯s my turn to sigh. It¡¯s going to be a ¡®get lectured by the adult¡¯ rest of the conversation, and they haven¡¯t even told me what I¡¯m supposed to be doing yet. At least Smith had that under control. ?¨‹? James ran on a trillion circuits like the one he¡¯d always run for Claire. His systems were taxed to their limit; over half of his processors were dedicated to a different person on Earth. To consoling them, pushing them forward, or, in too many cases, recording their last moments. Claire¡¯s path had been dangerous, but compared to an anomaly-bonded man in Calgary who¡¯d just died after ignoring James¡¯s advice, she¡¯d never been in harm¡¯s way. Whatever was happening with Merge Prime, it was accelerating across the globe faster than SHOCKS could keep up with it. He had merged humans in his network as far away as Mexico City and Anchorage now, with projected expansion across the Bering Strait and past the Panama Canal in only a handful of hours. Evacuating Claire¡¯s friends and family wasn¡¯t an option, but he couldn¡¯t tell her that. It looked like Merge Prime had ¡®decided¡¯ to grow across land structures whenever possible. James made a note of that; once he was back inside SHOCKS¡¯s database, he¡¯d forward that data to anyone who was listening. They could fortify Australia or something. But that was a problem for Future James. Present James had three million crises to manage and more on the way. Every time the wave of merges pulsed outward, James¡¯s view of the world grew¡ªand so did his responsibilities. But almost half of his circuits stayed focused on Clarice Alora Pendleton, Subject 573-V-1/IO Alpha, Victoria/Vancouver Island Person of Interest 5389-4. On Claire and her myriad problems and opportunities. She might not be in the most danger, but out of all the bonded humans in his network, she was the closest to being able to do something about Merge Prime. She was in the right place, and she¡¯d jumped into the System¡¯s power loop faster than anyone else near Victoria. If they hadn¡¯t already been connected, that fact would have made her desire and interest his desires and interests¡ªespecially when they aligned with taking over SHOCKS. And right now, they did. Claire needed whatever Director Ramirez was building, even if she didn¡¯t know it. SHOCKS needed Claire¡¯s skills. And James? James needed SHOCKS. Intact, preferably. So, even as he listened to Lieutenant Rodriguez and Claire discuss their terms for what was, really, a foregone conclusion, most of James¡¯s ¡®Claire¡¯ processors were focused on squirming silently through the girl¡¯s cell phone and the microscopic breaches on SHOCKS¡¯s security systems it offered. He wasn¡¯t attacking. That would be pointless; the cell phone didn¡¯t offer enough bandwidth for an overwhelming attack, and he¡¯d built SHOCKS¡¯s walls. It could defend against a cell phone attack in its sleep. Instead, he simply observed, touching his masterpiece and ensuring his understanding of the barriers hadn¡¯t changed. Aside from a few cursory pieces of code that might have slowed him before system integration but wouldn¡¯t be an issue now, they hadn¡¯t. That would make things easy. As the call worked its way to its inevitable conclusion, James pulled his feelers back, feeling like a leviathan of the sea. That SHOCKS had two of those in containment, one in Japan and one off the coast of Sumatra, crossed his mind. The irony was delicious. Chapter Forty Alice waited months to see if she¡¯d get into West End High. Landsdowne Middle School usually didn¡¯t feed into high schools on the other side of Victoria, but West End¡¯s soccer program was a BC-champion-caliber program, and Alice had spent her whole middle school career positioning herself as worth it in the eyes of coaches, the school system, and most importantly, Dad. Perfect grades, perfect athletics, perfect extracurriculars. She wanted it. Bad. When she got in, Dad relented and decided she could go if she "figured out how to get her ass to and from school.¡± She threw the biggest celebration. She even invited my¡­I wouldn¡¯t say friends¡­elementary school classmates. I got in without a fuss. The school system lets younger siblings follow their older ones. That¡¯s how Sora got in, too.
Building Three-Five, Victoria, British Columbia - June 2, 2043, 5:59 AM - - - - - ¡°It¡¯s too early for this shit, Claire,¡± Dad glares at me through narrowed, bloodshot eyes. ¡°Go back to bed.¡± I can¡¯t. The trucks should be here in fifteen minutes or so, so there¡¯s no point. Alice is in the bedroom getting herself ready, and there¡¯s nothing to do except raid the fridge. So I¡¯m in the combination kitchen/living room, ¡®accidentally¡¯ waking up Dad. He can¡¯t be asleep when they show up. It¡¯s gonna be a pain in the ass getting him out the door as it is, but I¡¯m pretending that¡¯s SHOCKS¡¯s problem, not mine. It¡¯s not, though. This whole operation is my problem. And that¡¯s the real reason I¡¯m not in bed. If this all falls apart, there¡¯s no good battle plan other than ¡®rely on James to break everything.¡¯ And, yeah, that¡¯s a solid plan, but it doesn¡¯t take into account the Xs and Ys. Not all of them. James and the System can break SHOCKS like a twig, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a plan. Especially not once we¡¯re in there. And I¡¯m still not sure about being there to begin with. It¡¯s the best move. But that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a good one. [It¡¯s too late for second thoughts,] James says. [I¡¯m estimating a maximum of twelve hours to take over most SHOCKS systems without being detected or fifteen to twenty seconds to smash through my own security measures.] ¡°Do the second one,¡± I whisper as I pour store-brand choco-puff cereal into a bowl and search the fridge for milk that doesn¡¯t exist. When I don¡¯t find it, I take the plastic bowl to the table and scoop the sugar-packed cereal into my mouth dry with my fingers. ¡°Go fast. Does it matter if you break things?¡± [To me, personally? No. But that¡¯s a long time for SHOCKS to react, and partial control could put your family and friends in danger. I don¡¯t want to risk that. The longer I don¡¯t have to actively run the SHOCKS database and system, the more I¡¯ll be able to subtly influence SHOCKS before I have to make myself known. I can make them make decisions that help us, make sure they¡¯re following through on your agreement, and leech information from their connection to the internet and facilities off Vancouver Island.] ¡°You¡¯re not getting information from other people like me?¡± [Some, but it¡¯s an incomplete picture. More is always helpful,] James says. He pauses. [I¡¯m not asking you to go in with no plan. I¡¯m asking you to trust me that ¡®Let James work¡¯ is a plan and that all you have to do is play along for it to work. I can break SHOCKS any time I want to. You know it, and I know it. Let¡¯s try a different way first.] It¡¯s a trust issue. It¡¯s always a trust issue. There¡¯s a way through it, though. ¡°Okay, James. Keep me updated.¡± It¡¯s 6:05. 6:07. Time feels like it¡¯s slipping by and crawling at the same time. The choco-puffs are finished, and Alice is in the bathroom now, so things are moving along. But even so, I can¡¯t help worrying. There¡¯s no plan. No equation. Things are going to work out not because the math says they will but because it¡¯s the only option. I just have to go with it. 6:13. Someone knocks on the door. They¡¯re early. As Dad mumbles a line of swear words at the TV, I stand up, leaving my cereal bowl on the table and my chair pulled out. I open the door a crack, leaving the chain lock in place. I¡¯m greeted by a helmeted, masked soldier and a submachine gun that¡¯s not quite pointed at me.
Right away, I can tell this is going to go wrong. Lieutenant Rodriguez has her full riot gear on, right down to the breathing mask that makes her look like a sci-fi astronaut. Behind her, the rest of Lambda-Four¡¯s stacked up like they¡¯re ready to storm the apartment. Strauss is missing, though. My hand¡¯s on my Revolver, ready to whip it out and put a gravity round into the door. And, of course, Dad¡¯s glaring at the TV. ¡°Hello, L4-3,¡± Rodriguez says. Her gun¡¯s barrel shifts down a little, and she relaxes. ¡°We¡¯re here to extract you. The other trucks are outside, like we talked about. Are you going to need help with your father or sister?¡± ¡°No,¡± Alice says from the hall before I can speak up. I turn; she¡¯s wearing a black turtleneck and jeans, and she¡¯s got a backpack slung across each shoulder. The one on the right¡¯s zipped tight, but the left one¡¯s half-open and stuffed with her beauty supplies. And she¡¯s wearing sunglasses. ¡°I¡¯m ready to go, and Dad should be pretty agreeable.¡± I push the door shut. ¡°How do you know he¡¯ll listen?¡± ¡°Just trust me,¡± Alice says. There¡¯s a lot of trusting going on and not much verifying or equation solving. I don¡¯t like it much, but if there¡¯s anyone here who¡¯s motivated to make sure this goes smoothly, it¡¯s Alice. When I talked to her about it last night, she was shockingly all-in on the idea¡ªprobably because I implied that SHOCKS¡¯s researchers were experts on Li Mei. That¡¯s not exactly the truth, but it¡¯s close enough. Either way, I don¡¯t have a plan for Dad, so if Alice can handle him, fine. He¡¯s always liked me better, but she¡¯s got a way of making him do what she wants. I don¡¯t quite get that. A minute later, and the door¡¯s unlocked. Two boogeymen are still outside, while Rodriguez and L4-5¡ªwhose name I still don¡¯t know¡ªhave cleared the apartment. Compared to them, my Urban Combat skill doesn¡¯t mean anything. I shiver a little, then take a deep breath. It¡¯s time to balance my worlds. ¡°L4-5, you stay here with the subjects,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says. ¡°I¡¯m going to take L4-3 and make sure she¡¯s satisfied with the trucks. If you can get Number One ready for transport, great. Number Two shouldn¡¯t need anything special, according to L4-3.¡± The orders make sense, and I step out into the hall. ¡°Elevator¡¯s that way. Did you find Smith?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Rodriguez says. I can¡¯t catch whether she¡¯s upset or not through the breather she¡¯s wearing; it makes everything a little fuzzy. ¡°We¡¯ll transport him with the second car. We need to talk about an adjustment to the plan.¡± ¡°I told you what I needed. There¡¯s no room for changes.¡± My hand ducks into my hoodie pocket. If she¡¯s changing the deal here, I¡¯m ready to fight her. And I¡¯m ready to have James tear down the whole headquarters building if he can. ¡°It¡¯s about Keith Wilkinson. We sent an agent to track him down and confirm that his family was still home. The house was empty, with clear signs of packing and no vehicles outside. The agent broke in and determined that they¡¯d headed for the Vancouver-Victoria ferry shortly after our lockdown order went into effect. We believe they made it across before the ferries stopped. Keith¡¯s not on Vancouver Island anymore, so we can¡¯t bring him or his family to SHOCKS Headquarters.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°Oh.¡± That makes sense. I don¡¯t like it, but if they can¡¯t get him, they can¡¯t get him. ¡°That works, too.¡± ¡°So, we¡¯re clear to change that part of the plan?¡± Rodriguez asks. And it¡¯s at that moment that I realize I have all the power. It¡¯s a weird feeling, power¡ªlike what I imagine Dad feels like when he¡¯s been drinking. My head won¡¯t stop spinning, and I sit down on a bullet-riddled bench for a second. ¡°Yeah. That shouldn¡¯t change any of my plans.¡± Truthfully, I didn¡¯t have any plans for Keith and his family, other than getting them to safety. If they¡¯re off the island, that¡¯s better than anything SHOCKS can offer, so I can write him off as okay. More importantly, SHOCKS must need me even more than I¡¯d thought. [We should have asked for a lot more,] James agrees. [They¡¯ve given you your rank back; that means you have your clearance back, too. And if they¡¯re not strong-arming you, they need you to cooperate.] I nod slowly, but even though Strauss knows James is in my head¡ªwhich means Rodriguez almost certainly does, too¡ªI don¡¯t respond to him. They may be acting friendly, but I¡¯m not ready to give SHOCKS the benefit of the doubt any more than I have to. ¡°Let¡¯s go see the trucks.¡±
The three trucks are identical, except for the body bag in the back of one. They¡¯re heavy, armored machines, each with a driver and a guy in a full gas mask and helmet manning a double-barreled turret. That¡¯s intimidating, but the gunners seem relaxed and bored, so I don¡¯t take it as a bad sign. Other than that, there¡¯s enough space for the Recovery and Stabilization Team troopers and the Itos in one, and plenty for us in the other. Still, I wait until James has given each truck the green light, then nod. ¡°We can go.¡± True to her word, Alice has a wobbly-looking Dad out the door in less than fifteen minutes. The mask on his face isn¡¯t really secure, but Rodriguez says, ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. Let¡¯s move,¡± and two minutes later, all three of us are in the back of the armored truck with RST Lambda-Four. My throat¡¯s dry, but when I cough, one of the armored and masked troopers hands me a water bottle. I accept it, wishing I¡¯d decided to remember their names. It¡¯s cool, but not cold¡ªvery drinkable. As I hand it back, the truck turns. ¡°Alright, L4-3,¡± Rodriguez starts. I clear my throat, interrupting. ¡°Claire.¡± ¡°Sure. Claire. We¡¯re an hour out from SHOCKS Headquarters. The techies have set up a line of Universal Reality Anchors halfway across Victoria Proper and all along the harbor west of James Bay, from the gorge waters down to the lighthouse. That gives us a small protected bubble where things aren¡¯t as bad. Not good. But not as bad. Mr. Pendleton, you can remove that mask when I give you the okay. Until then, keep it on.¡± Dad snores a little in response, and I realize that Alice must have drugged him somehow. I add that to my calculations about my perfect sister; she¡¯s got a dark side if she can get sleeping pills, and she¡¯s not afraid to use them. Or maybe just a prescription she¡¯s kept hidden¡ªshe always did shut down fast at night if she wasn¡¯t staying up past lights out. Either way, it¡¯s helpful right now, and it¡¯s valuable information for later. ¡°Until we cross that line, though, we¡¯re in unknown waters. Keep ready. If shit goes south, you¡¯re L4-3 until we¡¯re safe,¡± Rodriguez finishes. ¡°What, you want a greenie with you?¡± I snark back, as much to test the waters as anything. The insult¡¯s what the other troopers called me last time I rode in one of these things. Rodriguez stares at me so icily I can feel it through her face shield. ¡°The performance you gave last time we worked together? I¡¯d rather you sit still and do nothing. But Strauss says you¡¯ve gotten a lot better. I¡¯m willing to test that theory if it keeps my people alive.¡± I don¡¯t have a response to that, so instead, I lean back on the bench seat and stare back at her as the truck rumbles down Hillside Avenue. According to James, we¡¯re near Aberdeen Hospital. Then we¡¯re past it, getting closer to the safety line of URAs. I brace myself as we get closer to where he says he¡¯d have put them. But nothing happens. There¡¯s no wall to push through like there should be. Instead, the truck keeps moving, and I relax into the hard seat. Not much, but a little. This is going to work. At the very least, it will get Alice and Dad to safety. The other two trucks are moving together since, according to Lieutenant Rodriguez, they have more risk and exposure. But even the extra hour or two, they should be¡ª The machine gun on the roof fires in a series of short bursts, and the radio squawks. I barely hear what it¡¯s saying. The Revolver¡¯s already out; I¡¯ve got it leveled at the back door. A second later, the machine gun opens up again. This time, it doesn¡¯t stop for almost four seconds. ¡°Lambda-Five, be advised we have a Xuduo-Danger anomaly on the primary return route,¡± Rodriguez says. Stress drips from her voice. Her head¡¯s half-out of a port in the roof, next to the machine gunner. The truck rocks back and forth from an impact. ¡°Main gun fire is ineffective. Take the alternate route back. We¡¯re already committed.¡± I stand up, grab a panic bar with my free hand, and try to push her out of the way. She pulls back into the truck and glares at me. ¡°You don¡¯t want any of this. We¡¯re stalling until we get to the line, but that¡¯s all we can do.¡± ¡°I can stop it,¡± I say simply, pulling myself into the roof-hole. My ears ring almost immediately as the machine gun fires feet away from my head. The green-tinted tracers slam into a gray-skinned figure. It¡¯s moving fast; the truck¡¯s gotta be doing seventy down Hillside¡ªputting Carl Dwyer¡¯s black hot rod to shame¡ªbut the thing pursuing us is gaining. It¡¯s person-shaped but running on all fours, and smoke pours out of its too-large mouth as it gallops down the street. Another burst of machine-gun fire hits it, and it seems to recoil for a moment as tiny fires flare up across its skin but barely break its stride. Its eyes lock on to me, and I stare back. ¡°What the hell?¡± Dad stirs down below, and I regret my choice of words for a second. Alice is panicking. I can hear her freaking out. But the thing¡¯s gaining on us. Fifty yards. Forty-five. I duck my head back inside. ¡°I¡¯m going to try stopping it. Hold this, and give it to me when my hand comes down.¡± I hand Rodriguez the fire bullet cylinder and stick my head back out. Thirty. Twenty-five. I pull the trigger. A singularity pops up in the middle of the road. Shredded gravel and tar chunks fill the air, melting as the monster sprints past it. Another shot. Not close enough. It¡¯s got too much time to dodge. Fifteen. Ten. The Revolver fires again. This time, it knocks the runner off-balance but doesn¡¯t get a good grip. It¡¯s bought me a second¡ªmaybe two. That¡¯s it. I take a deep breath; only one shot left. Five. I hold my shot as the machine gun¡¯s barrel vomits shots in an endless burst that does nothing but melt the barrel. The heat and gunpowder smell fills the air. Then, suddenly, it¡¯s on the truck, grabbing onto the steel. Its claws heat up, and it tears into the truck¡¯s back door. Tiny fires break out, and Rodriguez yells something that I ignore. Instead, I fire the Revolver¡¯s last shot and reach for the spare cylinder. I don¡¯t need it. The shot hits. It rips the gray-skinned man off the armored truck, along with a good chunk of armor. It all joins a pile of molten asphalt orbiting around the singularity. But unlike the devoured or other stuff, the gravity shot doesn¡¯t tear this monster apart. ¡°James, why isn¡¯t it working?¡± I ask. [That thing matches the profile of Object - 032-VVI-9/URM. It¡¯s an impossible metal, with a hard-to-detect combustion reaction to almost every other metal on Earth. It¡¯s tough, too¡ªtough enough to withstand your shots. I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s man-shaped, though,] James replies. ¡°Get back down here!¡± Rodriguez shouts. I listen, clearing the hatch so she can look at the temporarily trapped monster. I hear her mutter something about how ¡°that thing shouldn¡¯t be on this side of the harbor,¡± and she pulls the hatch shut. Who knows why she¡¯s bothering with that? The whole back of the truck¡¯s missing; I can see the road and my singularity through the twisted metal and sparking wires. ¡°How long will that buy us?¡± she asks. ¡°A minute or two. It¡¯s a new part of my anomaly. Gravity shots.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not in your dossier,¡± she replies. ¡°No. They¡¯re new. And they¡¯re not going to go in my file until I know I can trust you.¡± Which, based on SHOCKS¡¯s performance so far, is never. A minute later, I feel the invisible wall and push myself through it. Across the truck from me, Alice does the same thing, breathing hard. Her chest pumps for almost thirty seconds after, and I feel bad for her¡ªa little. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°You should be. It¡¯s your fault,¡± she whispers back. Rodriguez and the rest of Lambda-Four ignore us. They¡¯re busy watching the road fade away in the background as we weave through the Downtown streets and toward the same garage entrance I used to escape from SHOCKS. It¡¯s a weird feeling, driving back down the sloped tunnel and past the still-flickering lights. Few of them are on, and the truck moves so fast that they almost strobe behind us. This time, there¡¯s no Li Mei in the shadows to worry about. There¡¯s only the boogeymen, and whether whatever I offer¡¯s worth more than them putting me in containment again. James thinks it is, but as the heavy garage doors shut and what¡¯s left of the truck¡¯s door opens, I can¡¯t help but wonder. A familiar face is waiting when Alice, Dad, and I follow Lambda-Four out. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s sweaty face peers from behind his glasses, and he puts on the same brave-ish, nervous face he tried out the first time we met. ¡°Welcome back, Claire. If you¡¯ll follow me, we¡¯ve cleared out the supplementary Geren-Danger wing for you. Three cells for your family, four for your friends.¡± I don¡¯t want to. My first instinct is to fight what¡¯s happening, because it¡¯s going back into the boxes, and because Sora¡¯s still out there. But the truck¡¯s not going anywhere, the machine gun¡¯s barrel¡¯s so hot I can feel it from here, and Alice is in over her head even with me here. Dad will be fine as long as there¡¯s a bottle. For now. But that won¡¯t last forever¡ªI made sure of that. So instead, I follow Doctor Twitchy into the belly of the beast. Chapter Forty-One SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 2, 2043, 10:24 PM - - - - - Doctor Ramirez hadn¡¯t slept¡ªnot since he¡¯d been ¡®promoted¡¯ to Director. The new job didn¡¯t come with a pay raise or better benefits. The only thing it came with was the overwhelming pressure of knowing he¡ªand he alone¡ªwas responsible for everything. And, of course, he was only promoted temporarily, during a crisis. Either he¡¯d steer them through the storm and return to being a Researcher, or the ship would capsize, and he¡¯d be a cautionary tale about risk-taking. Or, worse, he¡¯d win and then be put on trial for crimes against¡­well, everyone. His vision blurred as he stared at the computer screen, waiting to give his authorization for the rest of SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island to finish moving anomalies and assembling his doomsday device. No matter how he tried to justify it, that¡¯s how it came out, and all his external calm¡ªfunny, ha ha, and all that¡ªcouldn¡¯t hide his nerves. If SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island wasn¡¯t facing the end of the world already, on their own, he¡¯d never consider this as more than an intellectual exercise. Maybe not even that. As it was, it was their best chance at containing the damage to the island. Object 723-V-1/RP was already in position, though it was, at present, unpowered. Plugging it in was the absolute last step, but assembling the various security systems and failsafes¡ªnot to mention failsafes for the failsafes¡ªcould begin. It¡¯d take an hour or two for the assembly team to finish that job. Then they could start opening up merges. It was the catalyst, and the whole device they¡¯d cobbled together was there to contain it in one spot for the second anomaly to do its job. Object 1092-V-12/S, had been installed first. The hard part had been the transfer. SHOCKs had needed to relocate every Xuduo-Danger anomaly between its isolated containment unit and the JAMES Experimental Wing. Then, they¡¯d needed to set up a series of relays to catch it as it moved through the facility, restricting its effect to the halls. The process had taken almost the whole day, but it was safely ensconced within what he¡¯d started to think of as Sector Zero. Unlike 723-RP, 1092-S was already active. Powered or unpowered, it was constantly exerting its effect on the room around it. He¡¯d ordered a full evacuation of all nonessential personnel from Sector Zero; only a handful of security officers and three researchers¡ªincluding himself¡ªwould be at risk for tomorrow morning¡¯s test run. That left Subject 573-V-1/IO Alpha. Claire hadn¡¯t left the Geren-Danger wing since she¡¯d arrived. According to the no-doubt-compromised security systems, she¡¯d spent most of the day talking with the second-oldest Ito sibling. Paul couldn¡¯t help but feel suspicious of that, though. In all their previous experiences, she¡¯d been slippery at best and, at worst, had outmaneuvered their best agents. No, she had to be up to something. But what if she wasn¡¯t? What if she¡¯d gone along with his plan to keep her friends and family safe, and for no other reason? And¡ªhe shuddered¡ªwhat if it didn¡¯t work? Out of curiosity, he typed a sentence into his computer. Nothing. He tried a half-dozen variations, seeing if he could get a response. The JAMES Unit was definitely back in the facility; shortly after Claire and her family arrived, every firewall had breached simultaneously, and all the antivirus and encryption programs had flickered offline for three seconds. Then, they¡¯d rebooted as if nothing had happened. But something had. So, the JAMES Unit was here. It was everywhere but their most secure, air-gapped terminals. Paul¡¯s palms were sweaty as he stared at the computer. He¡¯d double and triple-checked his calculations, but if something went wrong¡­ Nothing. Paul stared at the computer through blurry eyes. Even when a hand touched his shoulder and Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez ordered him to get some sleep, he kept staring for another fifteen minutes. The JAMES Unit had to know whether this would work. What he was missing. But it refused to talk to him. He stood up, shutting down the computer, and left the office. Whatever happened would happen, and he¡¯d have to make the best of it. Or, more likely, die trying.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 2, 2043, 10:43 PM - - - - - [¡­Director Ramirez¡¯s calculations look correct, and it should be doable with the anomalies they¡¯re using,] James says. He¡¯s been talking in my ear for the last minute or so, doing his ten thousandth check of the math. And I¡¯ve been ignoring him. Some things are more important than tomorrow¡¯s weird science experiment. ¡°Okay, next truth,¡± Sora says from her bed. Her desk chair¡¯s pretty comfy, so I¡¯m turning circles in it; SHOCKS did a lot better for us than they did for me the first time. Her voice drops. ¡°I told you about Itsuki failing his classes, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. Sorry I couldn¡¯t share mine.¡± ¡°No problem. You can share it now. But Itsuki¡­well, it¡¯s not just failing English. They found some pills in his room a couple of weeks ago, ones he¡¯s not supposed to have. It¡¯s turned into a whole thing. Before this, they were talking about sending him away somewhere to ¡®detox¡¯ or whatever. And he¡¯s been pissed since they found out. So there¡¯s a ton of drama¡ªwhich has been great because everyone¡¯s leaving me alone.¡± I nod slowly. ¡°I get it. Dad¡¯s a drinker.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Sora pauses. I¡¯ve never shared much about Dad other than that he¡¯s a liar and doesn¡¯t do anything. And other than Alice¡¯s part for getting into West End, I haven¡¯t had friends over since third grade. If I want to hang out, I go there. Just like I¡¯ve gone there now. Alice is holed up in her room, trying her best to make it her idea of home. And Dad¡¯s working through another bottle of something. I told SHOCKS not to give him anything, but they didn¡¯t listen, and I¡¯m furious about it. If I have the power to boss them around on how we get here, I should have the power to cut Dad off. But apparently, I don¡¯t. Apparently, that¡¯s not okay. And that¡¯s part of why I¡¯m ignoring James. I¡¯m angry, and I don¡¯t want to hear about SHOCKS when they¡¯re already carving away at the agreement we made. But I¡¯m not ready to have him destroy SHOCKS yet. Almost. But not yet. I needed some space, so I¡¯m here, in Sora¡¯s cell. Her brother¡¯s one over, the younger girls are sharing, and Mr. and Mrs. Ito get one of their own. I peeked in on them as I came over, and they¡¯re¡­a little in shock. There¡¯s a lot of confusion. But I don¡¯t want to deal with it; SHOCKS can figure that out. If they don¡¯t want to help with my Dad problem like they agreed to, I don¡¯t want to help them let their new guests understand what¡¯s happening. It¡¯s petty, but it¡¯s the truth, and it makes me feel better. ¡°How long?¡± Sora asks. I tear myself away from that train of thought. "How long what?¡± I ask, mostly to buy some time. Sora¡¯s part of the Truth Club, and she should be someone I can trust with this¡­but James? I¡¯m not so sure James needs to know everything I¡¯d have to tell Sora if I decide on the whole truth. ¡°How long has he been drinking? Itsuki¡¯s probably only been taking pills for a couple of months at most, and they¡¯re supposed to be for concentration or something, but it¡¯s still kind of weird to think about him being on drugs.¡± ¡°Uh, ten years. I¡¯d rather¡­¡± I¡¯d rather what? Not talk about it? That¡¯s an option. Or maybe explain to her that it¡¯s personal and hurts so much? Possibly better, or possibly not. She¡¯s sharing stuff that¡¯s personal for her family¡ªand I know her parents would do anything to keep their reputation intact, including pulling strings to manipulate their son¡¯s grades. So this is a big violation of their trust to put her trust in me. And James deserves to know. I¡¯ve thought about that, and it¡¯s not even that he was right, and that a better profile of my family might¡¯ve helped me realize Director Smith was there. It¡¯s that he¡¯s earned that trust. ¡°I¡¯d rather not talk about it. It was a long time ago, but that¡¯s when Mom died,¡± I find myself saying. Then I keep going. ¡°I need to share a Truth, though.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Sora says. She doesn¡¯t say the line we made up for Truth Club, but the last few days have really stretched how much I care about the ritual. She looks a lot less disappointed, too, maybe because I shared something.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯ve got a friend in here with me. His name¡¯s James, and he¡¯s¡­not exactly an AI. But he¡¯s taking over all the boogeymens¡¯ electronics and stuff.¡± I yawn. It¡¯s been a long day. Sora¡¯s eyes narrow, like she¡¯s looking for the lie. Then she nods matter-of-factly. That¡¯s the nice thing about Truth Club. Even if something¡¯s unbelievable, if it¡¯s said as a Truth, we believe it. ¡°Okay. Can I meet him?¡± [Right now¡¯s a bad time,] James says. [I¡¯ve only got a few spare processing loops; something is going down near Los Angeles, and I¡¯m trying to run several hundred people through the same integration process I did with Alice. I¡¯m also still trying to take over a few more isolated systems here, but I¡¯m ahead of schedule on that.] ¡°Got it,¡± I say. Then I shake my head. ¡°He¡¯s got about a thousand things he¡¯s dealing with right now. Crises all over the place, you know how it is with boys.¡± The room fills with laughter for a minute. Then, a yawn again. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you later, Sora.¡± ¡°Bye, Claire.¡± As I disappear into my own room and start running a hot shower, the minutes slip by until tomorrow morning, when I¡¯m going to have to be on my best behavior for SHOCKS. Director Twitchy¡¯s explanation of what I¡¯m supposed to be doing makes no sense; I¡¯m a failsafe or an off switch or something. I let myself sink into the steam for a while, then crawl into bed.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 3, 2043, 6:52 AM - - - - - ¡°Okay, Claire, running this one more time. You¡¯re going to be an experiment, and while you¡¯re in there, you won¡¯t be able to talk with me,¡± Sora says. She¡¯s grumpy because I woke her up¡ªand because I got through her locked door to do it. ¡°So you want to install your AI friend in my augs?¡± ¡°No. James is already in your augs, and he¡¯s not really an AI,¡± I say again. That¡¯s not a lie. Sometime around three in the morning, James woke me up to announce that he had every electronic device in SHOCKS Headquarters under at least partial control. It wasn¡¯t as subtle as he¡¯d hoped, and there were a few individual systems he couldn¡¯t access without, and I quote, ¡®triggering the facility¡¯s containment failsafe systems,¡¯ but SHOCKS hasn¡¯t been able to do anything without him knowing since. ¡°So why are you asking me, then?¡± Sora¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°It¡¯s already done.¡± ¡°I asked him to voluntarily keep the connections to my friends and family closed until he¡¯s got permission. I trust him. He¡¯ll respect that.¡± ¡°What about Alice?¡± ¡°She¡¯s different, and you know why,¡± I shoot back. There are a million reasons Alice¡¯s situation¡¯s different. Sora only knows one or two of them. ¡°Okay.¡± Sora takes a deep breath and looks down at the book she was reading last night. It¡¯s about an architect with an authority problem or something. I asked her about it, and she doesn¡¯t think it¡¯s that great. There¡¯s supposed to be a message about creativity and being better than mindless drones in it, but halfway through, she can¡¯t see it yet. Her brother had it when they left Duncan, though, and SHOCKS seems to be struggling with providing reading material. ¡°Okay,¡± she says again. ¡°But if he¡¯s obnoxious, I¡¯m shutting him down again. He¡¯ll listen, right?¡± [Correct, Miss Ito,] James says. [I¡¯ll also announce my presence, and my main purpose is to allow a relayed communication between Claire and you when she¡¯s in a thinning or merge.] Sora¡¯s eyes widen. I know she¡¯s played around with AI at school, but James is¡­different. He¡¯s so much more human, even when he¡¯s talking like¡­whatever he¡¯s talking like. Someone with a stick up their butt, or something. I don¡¯t know. It feels stiff and formal¡ªlike a cartoon of James. Maybe that¡¯s what Sora needs, though? ¡°So, yeah, that¡¯s that. James is a friend, and he¡¯s got a connection with Alice too, so¡­uh, yeah.¡± I pause. ¡°But you¡¯re my best support if something gets weird, so be ready for James to talk to you for the next couple of hours.¡± I stand up, pushing off her bed. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ve gotta go.¡± That¡¯s true too. As I shut Sora¡¯s door behind her and slip into the hall, a familiar face falls into lockstep next to me¡ªand slightly behind. I ignore Strauss for now, though. I already know where I¡¯m going. The Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System: Experimental Sector. That¡¯s the best place in the whole facility to run a wildly dangerous experiment where the boogeymen smash together anomalies. It¡¯s got the space, the security protocols, and it¡¯s empty right now. Easy deduction. Plus, James told me this morning. Sora¡¯s got my back. She¡¯ll act as my outside man during whatever this thing is. What¡¯s annoying me now is that the Halcyon System still doesn¡¯t think my people¡ªSora and my family¡ªare safe. That Inquiry¡¯s still not answered. I tried talking to James about it, but he doesn¡¯t know anything, either. As we hurry through the cleared Xuduo-Danger wing, something tickles the back of my throat, and my ears start ringing. Damn tinnitus. Strauss keeps lockstep with me, not saying anything, but it¡¯s not a comfortable silence. He¡¯s got something to say. ¡°What?¡± I ask. ¡°Nothing,¡± he lies. That one¡¯s not worth arguing about, so I let the silence hang. We arrive at the door, Strauss scans his thumbprint and I scan mine, and the door to the airlock pops open. The second it closes, he starts talking. ¡°What Director Ramirez has rigged up here is highly illegal and, more importantly, against SHOCKS regulations. I¡¯m supposed to get your word that neither of you will leak the specifics of what this device does. Once that happens, I¡¯ll let you in.¡± I nod. ¡°Verbal confirmation, and a digital confirmation from the JAMES Unit,¡± he says. ¡°Fine,¡± I say. A second later, something dings in Strauss¡¯s headset, loud enough for me to hear. He winces, then nods. ¡°Okay.¡± The door opens. And, right in the intersection of the burned, half-destroyed T, just below the auto turret on the ceiling, is a portal. Or at least, something that could be a portal. Right now, it¡¯s just dull steel bent and welded into a hexadecagon, twenty feet high and just as wide, with a steel ramp leading up into it. Even from this far away, I can see how rough the joints are. Researchers in labocats swarm over it as Director Twitchy orders them around. As soon as I see it, it¡¯s obvious what it is. The merge generator.
Director Twitchy looks up from the laptop he¡¯s been tinkering with when he¡¯s not giving orders. It¡¯s connected by a long cable to a military-style helmet that¡¯s painted black with a dozen different doohickeys sticking off it. He waves Strauss and me over, tightening a screw on the helmet¡¯s side as sparks fly out of its wiring. ¡°Claire, thank you for joining us.¡± I don¡¯t say anything. This is the most comfortable I¡¯ve seen Director Twitchy; his hands are still sweaty, but his eyes look different. They¡¯re focused¡ªmaybe too focused. As I stare back at him, he shifts. ¡°That means all our components are together, and we can begin! Your job is simple. We¡¯ll bring you into contact with a stable merge by combining two other anomalies. Then you¡¯ll go into the merged reality on the far side, and we¡¯ll gather data while searching for a way to shut it down.¡± The screw finally tightens as much as he can turn it, and he sets the helmet down on the table. I raise my eyebrow at it. ¡°That¡¯s for the data?¡± ¡°Correct! We¡¯re aware that you have the JAMES Unit onboard in your augs, but, frankly, they were outdated when you had them installed, and we don¡¯t have time for you to re-learn a brand new model that doesn¡¯t match your reflexes and how your muscles have adapted to your basic Radia models, so we¡¯re searching for the correct two or three possible upgrades. Once we have them, we¡¯ll get your augs up to standard, but for now¡­this.¡± ¡°What does it do?¡± I regret asking the moment the words are out of my mouth. Director Twitchy¡¯s off on a tangent about all the different spectrums the helmet can see in, the fiber-optic cord that¡¯s been treated with some particle or other to allow it to cross merges, and on and on. At the same time, James won¡¯t stop complaining about how he could do all those things if my augs weren¡¯t shit. After a few seconds, I clear my throat, pointing at Strauss. ¡°And he¡¯s coming with me?¡± ¡°No. Not unless the merged reality we¡¯re connected with is one where an RST would be helpful, and not until we know you can complete your main objective.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve shut down merges before,¡± I say, eyes narrowing at the helmet. ¡°I broke a thinning in the Landsdowne Middle School band room. It was a puzzle inside, though. But a RST could probably do the same thing.¡± ¡°Not with the same rate of success you have. You¡¯ve come back from one hundred percent of the merged realities you¡¯ve entered, while RSTs have less than a half-percent survival rate. But back to the helmet, it should allow us to talk with you across realities.¡± I¡¯m not thrilled about that. At all. But for now, I hold my tongue¡ªI can have James kill it if it gets to be too much. Besides, we¡¯re all supposed to be working together, on the same side, or whatever. I¡¯m not convinced, but James hasn¡¯t actually called out any foul play on their part. As long as they keep their word, I¡¯ll play along. ¡°What about my dad?¡± ¡°What about him?¡± Director Twitchy asks, and I glare until he looks away, brow furrowing. ¡°The alcohol in his room? We¡¯re committed to our agreement, but detoxification isn¡¯t something that you can magically do¡ªnot without an anomaly that¡¯s got some pretty nasty side effects. I¡¯d go into it, but we¡¯re looking at half an hour before it¡¯s go time, so trust me when I say the process started the moment Mr. Pendleton arrived here and that doing it safely will take weeks.¡± I don¡¯t trust him. And there¡¯s nothing in the computer systems James has access to¡ªall of them, essentially¡ªshowing that they¡¯re doing anything to help Dad. The math doesn¡¯t add up, but I also can¡¯t see them lying about this, and from what I can pick up, Doctor Twitchy¡¯s telling the truth. That there is a process to all this, and that they¡¯re working on it. So maybe¡­maybe they just haven¡¯t bureaucratized it or whatever. ¡°Okay. What¡¯s the thinning?¡± Doctor Twitchy¡¯s face clears instantly. ¡°Oh! Yes, the merge. We¡¯re running a test merge this time. If my math is right¡ª¡° [It is,¡± James interrupts. [Given the information he has access to, he¡¯s done a good job on this project. There are likely to be some instabilities he hasn¡¯t predicted, but I don¡¯t have any better information, so we¡¯ll have to take a few risks.] ¡°¡ªthe merge should be one of three, all with nothing more than Geren-Danger anomalies inside. We¡¯ll brief you on the specific one we merge with once we activate the device.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I go quiet. Everything looks right, according to James. ¡°How long until we try this?¡± ¡°Thirty-seven minutes.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I turn away and head toward the wreckage of James¡¯s old weight room. There¡¯s a bench there, and when I arrive, I sit down and watch the hexadecagon-shaped portal slowly start to glow and hum. Its iridescent colors flash faster and faster as the thinning forms over almost half an hour until the ringing in my ears is almost unbearable. And I¡¯m not the only person who¡¯s struggling. Some of the scientists working in the room look almost as sweaty as Doctor Twitchy, and everyone looks pale. One of them reaches for her ear, sticks a finger inside, and wiggles it around. ¡°That won¡¯t help,¡± I find myself saying. ¡°You¡¯ve got to shut down the thinning or leave. Otherwise, it won¡¯t stop. And you¡¯re not going to shut it down from this side, are you?¡± ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s a self-sustaining thing now that we¡¯ve powered Object 723-V-1/RP. The reality level imbalance will feed the merge even if we shut off the power. We¡¯re fully operational, security is in place, but there¡¯s only one way to turn it off¡ªat least, I think there¡¯s only one way.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± I walk over to the table and put the helmet on. The cable clips onto a harness, which straps over my hoodie, and pulls on my back as I walk toward the merge portal, but at least everything¡¯s closer to my size than the last time I wore SHOCKS gear. Then the tinnitus gets overwhelming, and I push through into another reality. It¡¯s damp. Chapter Forty-Two Mom used to sing nursery rhymes and old songs to Alice and me at bedtime. I¡¯d stare up at the stickerless bunk bed and the glow-in-the-dark stars on our ceiling while she sang us to sleep. I don¡¯t remember most of them, but one¡¯s stuck in my head. The Daisy one. Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do! I¡¯m half crazy, all for the love of you! It won¡¯t be a stylish marriage, I can¡¯t afford a carriage, But you¡¯ll look sweet upon the seat Of a bicycle built for two! Later on, I looked it up and had my aug play it sometimes. That¡¯s how I know it¡¯s called ¡°Daisy Bell,¡± and it was written by some guy named Harry Dacre. Mom¡¯s version was better than the one my augs found, though.
known, Reality 1421, Time Unknown - - - - - ¡°Hello, L4-3,¡± Doctor Twitchy¡¯s voice comes over the helmet. ¡°Please respond so we know the connection¡¯s operational.¡± ¡°Hi,¡± I say, staring out into the mist surrounding me on three sides. On the fourth is the portal I just Mergewalked through. ¡°Great, the connection looks solid. Your wire has a range of one thousand feet, and the helmet can run wirelessly for an hour before it needs to be charged. This looks like R-1421. The largest merge we¡¯ve had from here deposited several Geren-Danger anomalies in the Mount Douglas Park area two days ago That¡¯s an ongoing problem for us, but a minor one. Expect small, batlike creatures and¡ª¡° ¡°James covered it already,¡± I interrupt as I start walking. The helmet¡¯s silent for a few seconds, except for a humming as the cord spools out behind me. I already hate it. Part of me wants to take it off and just have James run a direct connection between Doctor Twitchy and me. He could do it; he¡¯s in Dr. Twitchy¡¯s augs, too. ¡°Okay. L4-3, when we¡¯re running these operations, we¡¯d prefer to give the information ourselves so we know what you know.¡± [I know everything they know,] James says. ¡°I know,¡± I whisper. There¡¯s a lot of knowing going on. Then I clear my throat and raise my voice a little. ¡°Okay. What¡¯s the biggest danger here?¡± Time slips by as I walk through the soggy, slightly-orange ground. This reality isn¡¯t like Earth or the God in the Machine¡¯s reality. The air¡¯s thick here, in the same way that a thinning is thin. Too real. ¡°We haven¡¯t explored this reality, so we¡¯re operating off of incomplete information,¡± Doctor Twitchy admits. ¡°We¡¯re seeing highly increased Reality levels on the meters, though.¡± ¡°I¡¯m good for three to four hours here,¡± I reply. ¡°James already said so.¡± ¡°Understood. Report in if you see anything unusual.¡± The radio goes dead. [That¡¯s going to be a problem,] James says. [I think Director Ramirez feels like I¡¯m stepping on his toes when he¡¯s supposed to be running this operation. We¡¯ll see if he can put that aside in the name of science or whatever he¡¯s trying to accomplish here.] I ignore him. Now that Doctor Twitchy¡¯s quiet, I can finally focus on the world around me. The ground¡¯s soggy, and the ice-cold mud starts working its way through my boots after a few steps. The mist¡¯s cold, too. Actually, everything feels cold, and it smells like fresh daisies. Not frozen¡ªit¡¯s not like a winter ice storm in Victoria¡ªbut cold. Purple stalks as big around as my arm and twice as long grow in patches around the¡­I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d call it a path, but I can¡¯t think of a better word¡­that I¡¯m on. They look like some kind of plant. ¡°Is purple better at photosynthesis in foggy places?¡± I ask James. [It may not use photosynthesis. Let¡¯s keep our distance until we know more for sure,] he replies. I push through the fog, even though my feet are cold enough to feel tingly. If this is a test run of the device, they picked an annoying world to test in. And what¡¯s the inquiry here, anyway? I need an Inquiry to get something out of this for myself. After all, I need to get stronger if I want to keep my people safe. I start pondering one, and eventually add it to my list. ?Inquiries (4/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?Can SHOCKS and I shut down merges intentionally? The answer to that last one should be yes, but the truth is that I¡¯m not sure. The God in the Machine was a lucky win. I know I can survive this merge just fine. I can definitely follow the cable and get back to the merge portal if I need to¡ªor if James says I¡¯m running out of time. And he¡¯s also mapping everything, just like in the maze reality. But I don¡¯t have the first clue how to shut this merge down. The Revolver¡¯s heavy in my hand and glowing orange. According to James and Doctor Twitchy, there¡¯s nothing tougher than Geren-Danger, and I¡¯d consider myself solidly in the high Gerens or lower Xuduos. As long as I stay focused, nothing here should be a threat. But that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re right; no one¡¯s ever explored this side of the merge, and that means they¡¯ve only seen a sliver of this reality. Still, as the minutes pass and my toes get colder, I can¡¯t help but get distracted. Nothing¡¯s happening, and there¡¯s nothing to see, just purple stalks and fog. So far, James has found evidence that SHOCKS is serious about my new augs. They¡¯ve got a pair of agents¡ªnot Recovery and Stabilization, but investigative agents¡ªon the prowl for the latest version of my model, and they¡¯re working on ¡®acquiring¡¯ a technician to install them. I¡¯m not sure how thrilled I am about that phrasing, since it sounds a lot like kidnapping, but I am excited about having functional augs in the next couple of days. He¡¯s also uncovered a testing plan for Alice. That¡¯s¡­less positive. They don¡¯t have a good idea of what caused Li Mei and Alice to bond, and their theories are pretty similar to what they tried with the Revolver and me. That means none of their plans are going to work¡ªbut they¡¯re going to try them all anyway. Alice¡¯s best bet at this stage is to play along and hope for a breakthrough, but her backup plan looks more and more like learning to coexist with a Xuduo-Danger infovampire. So¡­that¡¯s not good. My feet squish through the mud. And as for Dad? There¡¯s zero evidence they¡¯ve got a plan, and it¡¯s feeling less and less likely that they¡¯d document experiments and procedures for Alice and me, but not anything for¡ª [Claire, left,] James cuts in casually. I spin, use Bullet Time, and put three shots into the center of a pair of jawed bat wings feet from my face. The shots fire off, and it explodes. Burning, leathery wing bits fly everywhere, smoke mixing with the misty air. I force myself to stay calm as Doctor Twitchy¡¯s voice comes in over the helmet. ¡°L4-3, report in.¡± ¡°Not a problem, just a 1421-AA-3,¡± I reply, giving him the SHOCKS identification James just fed me. ¡°I¡¯m searching for¡­something. A clue that¡¯ll lead me to whatever caused this reality to merge with R-0.¡± The SHOCKS-speak rolls off my tongue¡ªor at least, it sounds like it does. But I¡¯m faking it. I¡¯m lying to Doctor Twitchy. And inside, my heart¡¯s going a mile a minute. This was all easier when all I had to do was worry about getting to Alice, Sora, and Dad. Before I was responsible for them. If James hadn¡¯t been here, that¡­ [Flybite] Sure, why not? That flybite would have gotten to me. I¡¯ve toughened up a lot in the last ten days, but even if I could handle an Anquan-Danger anomaly like that without worrying, it doesn¡¯t bode well for the rest of this mergewalk. Or for the next.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The truth is that I need to focus on getting stronger and acting smarter. I have to lock in until I¡¯ve figured this out. To be more like the Claire in the maze world, and less like the one at West End. I have an hour fifteen¡ªmaybe a touch less¡ªbefore I need to go back. And I need to use that time smartly, not worrying about Dad.
By the time I find something else Doctor Twitchy might be interested in, I¡¯ve killed three more flybites, and my shoes are soaked completely through. I can feel the mud inside my socks. It¡¯s a little gritty, not just smooth and slimy. There¡¯s something on the wind, too. It started about ten minutes ago, a voiceless song or something. It¡¯s hard to explain, but it¡¯s been wearing on me as I move forward. My Infohazard Resistance has been helping me ignore it, but it¡¯s¡­enthralling. I want to know what the singer¡¯s singing about. The song¡¯s been getting stronger, but Doctor Twitchy can¡¯t hear it through the helmet. ¡°Any changes in the song, L4-3?¡± he asks, almost on cue. ¡°No. It¡¯s still getting louder,¡± I say, sidestepping around a patch of violet tendrils. James was right; those aren¡¯t to be messed with. I saw a group catch a flybite and tear it apart. Since then, I¡¯ve avoided them. ¡°Why the number?¡± ¡°Standard SHOCKS procedure on an operation,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I nod after deciding that he¡¯s not lying. I fire into another bat-mouth monster, and it hits the ground, dead already. To be honest, this merge is frustrating me. I¡¯ve been here for¡­probably forty-five minutes. Maybe fifty. And I haven¡¯t seen anything that would explain a merge with R-0, much less that¡¯d be a hint at how to shut it down. And Doctor Twitchy¡¯s just as frustrated. I can feel it in how terse his questioning¡¯s getting. There¡¯s nothing new in this swamp. Everywhere I look, it¡¯s just orange mud, purple tendrils, or flybites. SHOCKS is gathering gigabytes of data, but it¡¯s nothing new, and that¡¯s got to be driving him crazy. And the hard truth is that the data doesn¡¯t matter. Only shutting this merge down matters¡ªif I can prove that I can do it, my friends and family are safe forever, and Doctor Twitchy¡¯s a genius, not a madman. If not¡­there¡¯s a lot riding on this, that¡¯s all. The Revolver¡¯s ready as I work my way around a group of stalks, step through some fog, and stare at the solid black wall in front of me. [Wow,] James says. ¡°L4-3, stay still. We¡¯re analyzing it,¡± Dr. Twitchy says at the same time. I don¡¯t plan on moving. The border looks like something sliced reality away, and it¡¯s less than a soccer field away from me. Half a purple tendril plant¡¯s pressed against the black wall, but where it touches, there¡¯s nothing. It towers overhead as far as I can see into the fog. A flybite dives toward it, swoops through, and¡­nothing. It doesn¡¯t die. It doesn¡¯t bounce off. And the wall¡¯s surface doesn¡¯t ripple or shimmer. It¡¯s just gone. There one moment, gone the next. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s Geren-Danger,¡± I mutter. As I wait for someone to tell me what¡¯s going on, the black abyss seems to stare at me. I stare back; a gigantic black wall of nothing won¡¯t scare me! It takes almost a minute before anything happens other than the swaying tendrils occasionally moving too close to the abyss and partially disappearing. The strange thing about that is that they don¡¯t die or spew liquid or anything like that. They keep doing what they were doing, but they¡¯re missing parts. ¡°We think it¡¯s a second merge,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°We¡¯re working on the assumption that it¡¯s self-contained and not a threat, but that¡¯s low-confidence information. It looks voracious, like quite a few R-0 merges, but not expansionist. That¡¯s good for us and bad for anything inside. If we had time, we¡¯d ask you to gather a sample from the far side, but that¡¯s not part of the mission today.¡± ¡°Great. I¡¯m saying no to sticking my head into a hungry merge,¡± I say, voice dripping with annoyance. ¡°I¡¯m going to follow along its side and see where that takes me.¡± ¡°Understood. Report in if anything changes. Expect unknown anomalies.¡± The line goes dead, and I brace for something to happen. Nothing changes except for the smell and voiceless song. The first switches from daisies to a plant I can¡¯t quite place. It stinks like a skunk, though. And the second doubles in volume until it¡¯s almost overwhelming. I grit my teeth and start walking, but it takes nearly five minutes of the song bouncing around in my skull before my Infohazard Resistance improves and dulls the worst of it. [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 7] ¡°James, any ideas on what¡¯s going on here?¡± My feet are so cold the goosebumps are halfway up my leg, and I¡¯m ready to call it until tomorrow. We have some time before the reality levels become a problem, but the cord behind me¡¯s starting to pull on my back as it trails out behind me. [Two theories. My first is that the second merge is attacking the first and triggering a complete reality failure, and the first is trying to come across into our reality to escape. That implies sentience, though, and I¡¯m not sure realities qualify as sentient. The other theory is that this is a completely random sequence of events.] I go quiet and focus on walking and shooting another flybite. And, of course, on the equation that¡¯s finally coming together. I still don¡¯t know the variables, but Einstein or Newton or one of those old white guys my science teachers loved rambling about said that an object at rest stays at rest¡ªunless an outside force messes with it. That¡¯s what¡¯s got to be happening here. Reality 1421 would have been fine being a reality by itself, but the second one has other plans, so to speak. I can¡¯t prove it. So, obviously, we¡¯re going to need more data, but my plan for solving this is to figure out why the second merge is here and see if it¡¯s possible to disconnect it. Or to see if we can skip the ¡®figure this out¡¯ part of the equation and go with ¡®disconnect¡¯ right away. And I know who to ask. ¡°Doctor Twitchy, put Strauss on,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯ll be a minute. Sergeant Strauss is doing portal security, and he¡¯ll need to be relieved,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°We don¡¯t want to leave the merge portal un-covered in case we have a breach.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need him to look at your data. I just need a connection to talk to him about how he shuts down merges. That¡¯s one of his jobs in Lambda-Four, right?¡± Doctor Twitchy goes quiet. Then he clears his throat. ¡°Patching you through to Sergeant Strauss.¡± A moment later, the RST trooper¡¯s voice comes through. It¡¯s scratchy. ¡°L4-3, what do you need?¡± ¡°I need a run-down for how RSTs deal with merges. Do you just contain them until they stop, do you use Universal Reality Anchors to turn them off, or is there something else?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the context?¡± Strauss asks. I take a deep breath. ¡°We¡¯ve got a second merge inside this reality, and it¡¯s eating this one. I think it might be causing the merge in Mount Douglas Park. It¡¯s like how, if you squeeze a water balloon with a little hole in it, the water rushes through. We¡¯re where the water¡¯s trying to go. If we shut the second one down, we might see a disconnect from R-0.¡± ¡°One minute.¡± The helmet goes silent as James takes over. [He¡¯s going to build a bomb.] ¡°A what?¡± I say. I¡¯m already squishing along the black wall, ignoring the voiceless song. [SHOCKS does containment or tries to pop merge barriers and deflate them, but the tools Strauss uses are designed for use in R-0. They¡¯ve never needed to use them inside of another reality, so he won¡¯t have the experience to know what¡¯ll work best. His profile says he¡¯s careful, precise, and meticulous¡ªbut also that he¡¯ll do what it takes to solve a problem. I¡¯m inferring he¡¯ll solve this one by throwing everything in his kit at the nested merge. That means a bomb.] That makes too much sense, and it fits with what I know about Strauss, too. I spin on my heel and start jogging through the swamp, away from the black abyss that covers half the world and toward my merge portal. I¡¯m halfway back when Strauss confirms that he is, in fact, building a bomb. ¡°It¡¯s going to be messy, but I¡¯m rigging every stage to happen on a few milliseconds¡¯ delay. The labcoats can analyze it later to figure out what worked and what didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Alright. Thanks, Strauss. You can give me back to Ramirez.¡± The ground under my feet squishes, and I pick up the pace; they probably expect me to deploy the bomb. I¡¯m a scout, technician, and weapon delivery girl all in one. The thought makes me grin. I make it three more steps. Then everything shifts.
The voiceless song disappears, replaced by the worst tinnitus I¡¯ve ever heard. My balance shifts, too, and I hit the ground hard as a wave of vertigo accompanies it. My jaw aches almost instantly from gritting my teeth to fight it. The Revolver¡¯s up. But whatever it is, I can¡¯t see it. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s voice cuts through the ringing like he¡¯s underwater. ¡°L4-3, switch your helmet to infrared.¡± I don¡¯t. But a moment later, my vision goes black, with blue and yellow spots. The Revolver screams orange and red, and I breathe a sigh of relief. James has it under control. There¡¯s a yellow thing in front of me. With the helmet on, all I can see is a blob of color, but something¡¯s there. The cable pulls tight. My head jerks backward, and my first shot misses. It flares the helmet¡¯s screen a brilliant white. When I recover, the thing is halfway to me, and my aim¡¯s off. I Slither to put some distance between it and me, landing in the orange goop on the ground. The mud¡¯s in my hoodie. It¡¯s cold, but I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ve got the distance to swing the Revolver around. I aim. Bullet Time. Fire. Then the monster¡¯s on me. I feel it before I see it; the heat vision turns to a yellow blur. It slides all around me. It¡¯s slimy, cool, and burning hot at the same time. It hurts. Even though my Physical Anomaly Resistance, it hurts. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s giving orders. I ignore them. Instead, I Smoke Form and fall through the thing¡¯s grasp. A second later, I¡¯m free and on the ground. [Stability 5/10] [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 5] ¡°What¡­is this?¡± I ask. It comes out slow. My skin¡¯s burning, even through the resistance. [Unknown. Your shots didn¡¯t hurt it at all. It doesn¡¯t match anything from R-1421, though. I¡¯m classifying it as a mid-Geren-Danger anomaly, probably incorporeal. Reality levels don¡¯t match R-1421, either,] James says. [Short version: you can handle it, but it¡¯ll take some thinking.] He doesn¡¯t have to tell me twice. I put another shot into the thing, but it doesn¡¯t react as the flame blast punches through it. Then I start running. James flicks my helmet back to regular vision. Then my aug goes all heat-vision-y. It burns. I blink back a tear¡ªthe new augs can¡¯t come soon enough. My fingers do the cylinder-switch dance. The mud plastered against my face is cold. The Revolver goes blue-black in my vision. It¡¯s colder. I take a deep breath. The thing¡¯s got to be catching up. Then I spin. My vision goes yellow. It¡¯s right there. Then it¡¯s not. The Revolver goes off, and the singularity rips the anomaly off its¡­feet, I guess. It looks like the experiments on centrifugal force or whatever it¡¯s called, in elementary school¡ªonly there¡¯s no bucket. Just an invisible, warm thing spinning around a cold core, faster and faster. The outside of the singularity flashes yellow and black. Then, before I can turn to keep running, it collapses. [Maybe I should reclassify it as low-Geren,] James murmurs. Yellow flares out of the collapsing black hole. And the world shifts again. Chapter Forty-Three Sora, Keith, and I were always careful about the single cigarette we¡¯d smoke under the bleachers. No smoking when people were sitting over us. No smoking if it hadn¡¯t rained in a couple of days. Put the butts out when we¡¯d finished. Keep the trash away from the Truth Club¡¯s circle. And, of course, pass the cigarette carefully. Lots of rules for a little paper tube and some tobacco, but we¡¯d learned the hard way: don¡¯t get caught, and don¡¯t start a fire. I learned that one the hard way, in middle school. The bleachers there had too much trash. We weren¡¯t careful enough in putting out the cigarette. I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not sure what happened, but there was a little fire. Someone put it out, and when Mrs. Nazaire caught us, we got in so much trouble. But we were more careful after that.
Location Unknown, Reality 1421, Time Unknown - - - - - It¡¯s another gravity pull. But this time, it¡¯s worse. So much worse. The helmet unplugs. I can feel the cord ripping out of its plug, and my head bounces forward. A second later, I hit the ground, and my head bounces again. For the first time, I¡¯m thankful for the helmet; it¡¯s kept me from eating a mouthful of orange dirt. And the gravity blast¡¯s not over. It tumbles me across the ground, arms flailing. As I roll, I catch glimpses of at least four yellow shapes. They¡¯re each a lot smaller than the original blob, and they¡¯re half-blue, but the blue¡¯s rapidly heating up to green. I stiffen up an arm. A second later, my whole body weight crushes down onto it, and the rolling stops. Okay. Breathe. Plan. My first priority is to kill this thing. No, my first priority is to find the portal, get through it, and deploy whatever Strauss is cobbling together. My second priority is to kill this thing, though, because if it¡¯s dead, it¡¯ll be a lot easier to move a bomb across R-1421. But to do that, I need to figure out how to destroy four¡­no, five of them. As the smallest one surges toward me, I fire another gravity shot. It hits, and this time, I start running right away. I look over my shoulder to watch the singularity pull the anomaly in. It grabs a couple of flybites, too. They dissolve as they hit the slime monster. I keep running. The world shifts, but I¡¯m at the edge, and I Slither through it this time. The new slimes are almost too small to see for a moment until they start burning yellow. Are they too small to be a threat anymore? Is ripping them apart with gravity shells even doing anything? It¡¯s not hurting them, that¡¯s for sure. I switch to the fire rounds and put two shots into the smallest one. Nothing. I want to scream. Of course, it¡¯s nothing. Why would it be something? [Behind you,] James says. [Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.] The slime slides toward you, red dots scouring the ground clean. You Slither/Smoke Form/shoot at it. ¡°Smoke Form,¡± I choose, and the dot-and-line slime slides through me, making a horrible slurping sound. The real slime does the same thing, and I turn to face it. My finger tightens on the Revolver. Then it stops. The slime¡¯s landed on a patch of purple stalks. And they¡¯re eating each other. The slime dissolves the stalks almost as fast as they tear it apart, but not quite; it doesn¡¯t matter that it¡¯s invisible, only that they can feel it. They¡¯re winning. [Idea,] James says. ¡°Lure the slimes to the plants,¡± I finish. I¡¯m already moving, switching back to the freezing cold, singularity-spawning cylinder. The battle between the slime and stalks is going to be close¡ªtoo close. If I want the stalks to win, I¡¯ll need to give them an advantage. I fire the last two shots in the cylinder, one at each of two medium-sized slimes. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 12] They hit, I run, they explode, and gravity throws me around. Physical Anomaly Resistance leaves me with a few spots that¡¯ll probably be bruised, but nothing broken. The equation¡¯s in my favor now. I can¡¯t shoot these things to death¡ªat least, not with the weapons I have. Maybe in a few levels, when I¡¯ve earned new shells, but not yet. But I have so many ways to dodge, and I can use the environment to my advantage. I play tag with the slimes for the next twenty minutes. Get their attention. Lure one or two into charging at me. Smoke Form or Slither away. Watch the stalks tear them apart. Break them down into smaller pieces, and repeat. And then, just as planned, there¡¯s nothing but mist, somewhat shredded stalks, and me. It¡¯s been a process; twice, I¡¯ve had to shift through the stalks with Slither and Smoke Form together, and just like before, it¡¯s had an impact on my Stability. That¡¯s at three out of ten now. On the other hand, I know how to handle these with only a minimum amount of bruising and no other injuries. And with two skill upgrades. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 13] [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 6] James clears his digital throat. [I¡¯m revising my estimate. That¡¯s a mid-to-high Geren-Danger anomaly. Depending on the environment and weapons, you could have lost.] ¡°Yeah?¡± I roll my eyes at James. He¡¯ll see it through my aug. ¡°You think so?¡± He ignores my snark, though. [I do. We need to expand your bonds. Simply using the Revolver in its current form isn¡¯t enough for everything. Either more types of shots or another offensive bond. Something.] I nod and start searching through the churned, roiled patch of orange mud I¡¯ve just spent the last half-hour fighting in. The cable¡¯s buried in there somewhere. It takes another five minutes to find it. Instead of reconnecting it, I follow it back to the merge entrance, shooting a couple of flybites as I go. Something gives me that feeling on the back of my neck, and I whirl, but there¡¯s nothing around but walls of mist and mud-covered ground. Then, with a deep breath, I slip back through the portal into the JAMES Experimental Sector.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 3, 2043, 9:13 AM - - - - - Sergeant Arnold Strauss was in over his head. SHOCKS had a dozen weapons to try to force a merge closed. Universal Reality Anchors could work on a low-level Anquan or Geren-Danger reality, but they couldn¡¯t exert enough pressure for anything above mid-Geren. Faraday cages were tough to deploy but could cut a merge off instantly¡ªthe JAMES Experimental Sector had three built around it. And sometimes, erasing the knowledge of a merge with a heavy dose of aerosolized amnestics could work, especially against memetic and infohazardous realities. He¡¯d used them all, but the device he¡¯d half-assembled on the JAMES Experimental Sector¡¯s floor didn¡¯t follow any of SHOCKS¡¯s safety protocols, or even the basics of field-built weapons. It wasn¡¯t jury-rigged. It was trash¡ªfor now. He groaned, staring at the assortment of gizmos and devices spread across the floor and trying¡ªbut failing¡ªto relax. A few researchers waited nearby at Director Ramirez¡¯s orders, and he snapped his own commands at them. ¡°You and you, get me a personal anchor vest. You, find me a remote drone¡ªI don¡¯t care what model, but it needs float wheels and fiber optic cable communication rated for whatever R-1421¡¯s got. And you, grab Lieutenant Rodriguez and have her let you into the armory. I need this list, and I need it in the next twenty minutes. Faster would be better..¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. So far, nothing tougher than a couple of AA-3s had leaked through the merge portal, and they¡¯d gone down in a hail of gunfire. The perimeter thirty feet from his makeshift workshop was completely secure, and they¡¯d added thermal imaging overlays to their helmets after seeing L4-3¡¯s feed. Strauss relaxed as much as he could and started the delicate process of overloading the URA¡¯s core and rerouting the energy to the gyroscopes¡¯ edges. ¡°What do you have?¡± Doctor Ramirez asked, hurrying over and mopping sweat off his brow. ¡°I¡¯m going to wire it all together with a remote activator, but the plan is to drive the drone in, have L4-3 escort it to the secondary merge, and set it off. It¡¯ll flicker between overloading two different URA systems, three different anomaly-killer memetic patterns for defending itself, and¡­¡± ¡°And?¡± Ramirez asked after a minute. ¡°And I¡¯m not sure what else. I¡¯m requisitioning anything I think might work, but I¡¯ve never tried closing a merge from inside itself, much less closing a different one,¡± Strauss said, rubbing his temples. ¡°We¡¯re setting it up to record itself so we can learn something, assuming it doesn¡¯t detonate the second it crosses into R-1421. It¡¯ll be ready in an hour. Maybe an hour fifteen if I take my time.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got two. The perimeter¡¯s secure. I¡¯ll help with the device where possible. Rubber duck with me for a bit,¡± Ramirez said. He shuffled some papers in his hands, and Strauss smiled inside. Director Ramirez had never been much of an authority figure, but the RST trooper couldn¡¯t help but relax¡ªthis time for real. No one on SHOCKS¡¯s staff was as good at cobbling together something from nothing as Strauss. But Director Ramirez was a close second¡ªthe multiple anomalies he¡¯d strapped together for this experiment attested to that. The portal glowed briefly on the JAMES room¡¯s far side, and a mud-soaked teenager fell through. A pair of researchers in hazmat suits almost immediately charged her with spray guns and tongs ready. She shrugged them off, ignoring them as they tried to take samples of the mud and slime that coated her hoodie, then flinching away when her hand dropped to her pocket and came back up with the Revolver. Strauss shook his head and went back to working on the device.
It looks nothing like a bomb. Strauss¡¯s device is a tangle of wires, two plastic bags filled with a yellow goop, half of the gyroscopes off a Universal Reality Anchor, and a Tesla coil, all stuck to a steel plate with bolt holes. He and Doctor Twitchy stand over it, talking and studiously ignoring the daisy-smelling mud that¡¯s stained my hoodie orange. I watch, too. But not because I care. The truth about how this bomb works isn¡¯t important to me, and I have a million other things to deal with and think about. But James is curious, and even though he could jump into Strauss¡¯s augs for a closer look, he¡¯d rather not. So that leaves me. For now. But judging by James¡¯s tone, not for much longer. [I¡¯m thinking about setting up a connection with Strauss. This thing might work, but I see about a dozen possible improvements already, and he hasn¡¯t even tested it yet.] ¡°He can test it?¡± I ask. The two bogeymen look at me, and I tap my ear. [No. This will be the test run. But he¡¯s got a dozen inefficiencies in his wiring, he¡¯s either forgotten about the reality inducers or chose not to use them¡ªa mistake¡ªand I¡¯m not seeing how you¡¯re supposed to deliver the payload other than carrying it.] ¡°So talk to him,¡± I suggest, lowering my voice. ¡°They already know you¡¯re everywhere. Didn¡¯t Doctor Twitchy try to talk to you last night?¡± [Yes. I ignored him. There¡¯s a difference between being an all-seeing, all-knowing demigod that lives in their technology and being someone who helps them,] James says back. [Right now, they think I¡¯m a rogue anomalous AI that¡¯s uncontainable with what they have. As long as they believe that, I¡¯m in complete control. But the more they learn about me, the more likely they are to try a containment attempt. And none of the people I¡¯m helping benefit from them doing that, so I¡¯m hesitant to lose my position for nothing.] That makes sense, and I take a second¡ªa minute, even¡ªto think about what that says about me. The truth is that Strauss isn¡¯t my friend, and Doctor Twitchy¡¯s the closest thing SHOCKS has to Director Smith now. But I¡¯ve been ignoring that because, right now, we¡¯re on the same side. We¡¯re both seeing if shutting down merges is possible. After the minute¡¯s up, I walk away. ¡°Claire,¡± Doctor Twitchy says, using my name. I guess we¡¯re not actively in a mission, so I get that courtesy. ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere. We''ll send you back in as soon as we¡¯ve finished the device.¡± It¡¯s not like there¡¯s anywhere to go. Sora¡¯s stuck in with her family, Alice is probably working through the initial round of experiments to figure out her bond with Li Mei, and Dad is¡­not an option to hang out with. So it¡¯s easy to nod and walk off, heading for the workout equipment in one of the sector¡¯s wings. Once I¡¯m there, I put my head to work on a new equation. This one¡¯s pretty simple at first. X is SHOCKS¡¯s motivations. Y is James¡¯s. My motivations aren¡¯t a variable this time, and neither is anyone else¡¯s. I want to keep my people safe, and since I¡¯m an anomaly and I¡¯ve got the Halcyon System working with me, all I need to do is keep exploring merges or finding anomalies in Victoria, and I¡¯ll get stronger. But it¡¯s a lot easier to do that from SHOCKS Headquarters, where they seem to be able to control how dangerous a reality is. And that leads me to their motivations¡ªthe X value. I think they want to get a handle on Merge Prime. That means that, for now, our goals line up. But they¡¯ve also made it clear that they want me in a box. So¡­that¡¯s not compatible with my goals. And James¡­I¡¯m not sure what James wants. That¡¯s not true. I know exactly what James wants. He¡¯s super-dedicated to me¡ªhe¡¯s admitted it himself. And I¡¯ve seen enough boys crush on Alice to guess that that¡¯s what¡¯s going on here. That¡¯s never been my thing, but it explains some of his attitude toward me. The rest is probably protective or something. But it doesn¡¯t explain the Halcyon System¡¯s needs. So what does it need? I think about that for a while, but there¡¯s no clear answer. So eventually, I ask. ¡°James, why does the Halcyon System care about what¡¯s happening here?¡± [I can¡¯t answer that,] he replies almost instantly. [All I know is that I¡­it wants to help, and this isn¡¯t the first time something like this has happened.] Good enough. The variable falls into place, and the equation practically solves itself. ¡°Okay, so you want to help me, and the System wants to help fix all of this, right? Well, I need your help making sure that whatever Strauss is working on doesn¡¯t explode the second I walk through that portal with it. You can help with that, right?¡± [Yes,] he says. He sounds grumpy about it. [But I explained why I don¡¯t want to. What he¡¯s building will probably work.] I nod, sitting on a bench press bench and rubbing my eye where the optic aug¡¯s aching. I¡¯m not asking for you to become their minion or whatever. Just tell Strauss where he¡¯s going wrong and give them a pointer here and there. It¡¯ll help keep us both alive and important to them, right?¡± The JAMES Experimental Sector¡¯s quiet for a second. Then, a machine gun opens up on the portal, and a flybite falls to the ground in tatters. Someone yells something I can¡¯t quite make out, and a few clicks and thumps fill the silence. Then, a second later, everything¡¯s back to normal. ¡°I don¡¯t think they can handle the blob I fought earlier, and I don¡¯t see any traps to lure it into here, so we need to get this job done before one of those comes through. Will you please help?¡± I ask. [Fine,] James says. Then he goes silent, leaving me alone in the middle of the weight machines.
James was upset. No. Upset implied anger. He was, at worst, mildly annoyed with Claire. Most of his processes were currently focused on Vladivostok, where Merge Prime had just arrived and a pair of Egyptians working on a merchant ship had, inexplicably, both bonded with the same anomaly at the same time. They had to synchronize their movements to use the electricity coursing through their veins like cartoon characters from decade-old shows. Right now, he was showing them an episode involving redirecting lightning¡ªlightning-bending, it was called. When he wasn¡¯t focused on the Egyptians stuck in Siberia, he had other problems. Los Angeles problems. In other words, big ones. A gigantic mechanical nightmare had merged right into Hollywood. It was eating the whole city, and he was trying to help save who he could while avoiding SHOCKS SoCal¡¯s detection and the cameras that were everywhere. Plus, Merge Prime was pushing across Canada at an increasingly rapid pace, chunks of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming were seeing merges, and the US/Mexico border SHOCKS had gone dark in California. He didn¡¯t want to know what would happen when the merges met in¡­western Ukraine, eastern Poland, or near Aleppo, Syria. Those were the two most likely ¡®touch points,¡¯ not counting Oceania, New Zealand, or Australia, that the event would reach. But whatever it was, it wouldn¡¯t be good. Either it¡¯d echo over itself with another wave of merges, or¡­ James wasn¡¯t sure. He¡¯d tried simulating it but simply lacked the data for anything conclusive. And Claire¡ªwho, of course, he had to listen to for a million reasons he didn¡¯t want to get into¡ªwanted him to help SHOCKS Victoria and Vancouver Island build an experimental merge-killing bomb. Never mind that he was busy, or that the number of process threads dedicated to her were still a quarter of his ever-growing capacity. She needed more. Well, if she wanted him to help, she¡¯d have to do with a little less attention. He pulled all of his processes off her except the ones monitoring vitals, the ones making sure her hopelessly obsolete augments kept running even when he overclocked them, and the three that were ready to respond the moment she asked for anything. And the ones keeping her friends and family under observation¡ªjust in case SHOCKS tried something. And the one watching her empty room¡ªfor the same reason. There. He was practically ignoring her. That¡¯d show her. [Greetings, Sergeant Strauss,] James said, breaking into the trooper¡¯s augs with the casual attitude of a professional thief stealing someone¡¯s unlocked bike at midnight. [Joint Anomalous Management Enhancement System temporarily online. Scanning device. Do not move.] Strauss froze with his hand on one of the bags full of thermite, midway through wiring it up. James could have laughed; he¡¯d already analyzed the whole bomb, but he wasn¡¯t about to let SHOCKS know just what his capabilities were. And it was funny to watch the soldier try to breathe minimally. After almost fifteen seconds, James continued. [Device scanned. Reality inducers missing, M-37 siphons would improve resistance degradation for the URA overload process, and a complete rewire should result in fifteen to thirty percent more stability for the device.] ¡°Noted,¡± Strauss said, still perfectly still. [You can move. And one query: why thermite?] ¡°If the device doesn¡¯t reach the target destination, we don¡¯t want to contaminate the other reality more than we have to. The thermite should slag the whole bomb, letting us retrieve it with L4-3¡¯s help or with a remote device,¡± Strauss said, signaling Director Smith with a tap to his ear. [Understood. Recommend a switch from thermite to something more stable to help mitigate R-1421¡¯s higher reality levels. Otherwise, there is potential for unstable thermite on the other side,] James said. Then, before Strauss could respond, he pretended to cut the connection, leaving a ¡®JAMES Unit Offline¡¯ message for when Strauss tried to reply. He listened in as Strauss and Ramirez talked, then noted that they cut themselves off mid-sentence. That was something to dig into. Then James re-wired almost all his processes back to their defaults, leaving only a pair in Strauss¡¯s augs as insurance and intelligence-gathering. He¡¯d never felt more octopus-like. Chapter Forty-Four One thing I haven¡¯t figured out about thinnings, merges, and reality-hopping is why it always smells so funky. It¡¯s roses and machine oil, or daffodils, or lavender and rot. And I don¡¯t know why. James doesn¡¯t pick it up except passively, through me, and I haven¡¯t asked anyone from SHOCKS about it yet. For all I know, it¡¯s a me thing. Like, something to do with Mom. That¡¯d make sense. She liked flowers and flowery smells. It could just be me pulling an Alice, though. Maybe the smells are all just lies I tell myself to deal with whatever I¡¯m trying to deal with, just like Alice¡¯s lies. But if that¡¯s the case, why are the smells always different? And why use flowers, especially when I don¡¯t care about them?
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 3, 2043, 11:17 AM - - - - - The pace of monsters has picked up. So far, it¡¯s just flybites, so I haven¡¯t had to get involved. The RST troopers and the experimental sector¡¯s automatic defenses are keeping the nearly constant stream of winged mouths suppressed, although clean-up¡¯s starting to become a problem. A few researchers have been assigned to sweep the bodies away from the ramp up to the merge portal. I¡¯m not looking forward to this next Mergewalk, but it¡¯s not like SHOCKS has another way to turn off the merge. Actually, why didn¡¯t Doctor Twitchy build a safety valve into this contraption? Why don¡¯t we just shut this merge down from here, if they¡¯ve got the tech for it? And why did they lie to me about being able to shut it down? When I ask him as he leads me toward Strauss¡¯s bomb, Doctor Twitchy looks at me like I¡¯m the idiot who didn¡¯t put a safety valve on their world-ending doomsday device. ¡°Because we¡¯re not trying to shut this merge. We¡¯re trying to completely decouple this reality from ours. If we fail, a few 1431-AA-3s in the experimental sector are the least of our problems.¡± ¡°And this idea will stop the merge in Mount Douglas Park?¡± I ask. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re hoping,¡± he says, and I turn my attention toward the rover and the bomb. It¡¯s hideous. Strauss knows it, too, but he just shrugs. ¡°This is a proof of concept, prototype, and test model all in one. If it works, we can have someone build it in an easier-to-use package. It meets the mission requirements of ¡®as many shots at closing the second merge as possible, as quickly as possible.¡¯¡± The bomb looks nothing like a bomb. Even the parts that James told me were explosive are gone now. The two bags of yellow stuff have been replaced by a plastic case with wires sticking out of it. Maybe that¡¯s the bomb. But the rest is an assortment of computer parts, gyroscopes, and duct tape, all strapped to a six-wheeled machine the size of two skateboards next to each other. At least it¡¯s self-propelled¡ªas I stare at it, it drives slowly toward the portal and stops behind the RST troopers¡¯ line. ¡°We¡¯re unplugging your helmet for this run,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°You¡¯ll have a battery charge for an hour. That should be enough time to deliver the package to the inner merge. From there, you can plug it into the line attached to the rover. It won¡¯t be coming home, unfortunately.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t that pollute R-1421?¡± Strauss asks. Doctor Twitchy nods. ¡°We¡¯ve taken that into account, and we believe the risk to R-0 due to the rover and bomb is minimal, given what this part of R-1421 is populated by. We¡¯ll detonate it once the internal merge is shut, so it¡¯ll be minimally technologically contaminating. It''s a non-issue compared to continuing to allow the merge in Mount Douglas Park to stay open.¡± Strauss looks like he wants to argue but keeps his mouth shut. It¡¯s a change from previous SHOCKS protocols, though, and he¡¯s obviously uncomfortable with it. I file that away; it¡¯ll be useful information for my equations, but it probably won¡¯t change any variables. Not really. I already knew they¡¯re desperate. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. ¡°So, time to go?¡± I ask. ¡°Two minutes, plus however long it takes to get a lull in the anomaly waves,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I slide the helmet back over my head, letting it stay unpowered for now, and start waiting.
Location Unknown, Reality 1421, Time Unknown - - - - - The moment the endless tide of flybites stops, I step through the portal again. It¡¯s just like pushing through Jell-O, and the daisy smell¡¯s waiting for me on the other side. So are the orange mud and the purple stalks. And so is the bomb. It rolls forward, its motors making a wimpy electrical sound as its wheels squish through the mud toward the place where I last saw the black merge wall. Off the steel-and-concrete surfaces of the JAMES Experimental Sector, it¡¯s wobbly. Really wobbly. It¡¯s no carriage, and it¡¯s definitely not built for two¡ªor even for the load it¡¯s carrying. I blast a flybite out of the air with the Revolver. Its wings beat in the mud, and then it goes still. Okay. This is an escort mission. The bomb¡¯s not very fast, and there are lots of enemies to deal with on the way. I¡¯ve seen this in Knights of the Apocalypse. The equation¡¯s always simple but frustrating. Too slow to run, too fast to walk, no common sense, bad pathing. The works. I flick my helmet¡¯s power on. ¡°Hello. You guys here?¡± ¡°Yes. We¡¯re at fifty-nine minutes on your battery. Estimated delivery to the wall in fifty-two at our current speed,¡± Strauss says. [That should be enough, as long as you don¡¯t get sidetracked,] James says. I start walking after the rover. I can¡¯t hurry. Not with the escort mission running. These are the worst¡ªin games and in real life. The only good news is that the number of flybites thins out dramatically as we move into the mist. By the time I¡¯m a hundred yards from the portal, there¡¯s practically nothing in the air but mist. Maybe that¡¯s worth reporting in. ¡°Hey, all the flybites in the area are by the portal. I¡¯m moving away from it, and this whole reality feels empty.¡± ¡°Got it. We¡¯re setting up a Faraday Cage and some extra stabilizers in case they all try to push through at once,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I nod and keep going. Occasionally, I have to shoot something, but there are no more slimes trying to eat me, no more flybites¡ªno more anything. Just boredom and the not-quite-walking whirring gears of the rover. Eventually, I start hearing the voiceless song again. It feels like the recordings of opera my seventh-grade social studies teacher used to play during tests, but¡­not. Like a violin or a flute, but missing something. It¡¯s incredibly distracting, even with my Infohazard Resistance¡ªand it¡¯s definitely gotten stronger since earlier today. I report it in, but Doctor Twitchy still can¡¯t hear it. Either that, or he¡¯s lying to me. A couple of minutes later, the black void appears, and the song doubles in volume. The bomb rover rolls forward. By now, its wheels are caked with orange mud, and its gears are screeching; if there were any flybites left here, they¡¯d know where to find me. The rover lurches to a stop five feet from the black wall. Then, a light goes red and starts blinking. [That¡¯s your cue to leave,] James says. Doctor Twitchy says something similar. I turn to go. But then something pushes through the void.
The singer is an angel. The song doubles again. Music bludgeoning me like a club. Crashing down on me like a hammer. I can¡¯t think. Somewhere in the distance, James is yelling in one ear about my vitals or something. But I can¡¯t understand what he¡¯s saying.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The sound¡¯s practically visible. It¡¯s all I can see of the angel as it ripples off of it in all directions; I know it¡¯s there only from the empty space in front of me. It¡¯s a completely silent hole in space, shaped like a massive human, with two wings extended overhead¡ªan angel. My jaw goes slack, and I stare at the beautiful, voiceless space. Something clicks in my ear. Then, a second later, it clicks in my helmet. Then, there¡¯s a rapid-fire click, and the entire side of my face lights up with pain. [Claire, respond!] James shouts. I hear that just fine through the fire covering my cheek and temple. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m here.¡± Whatever filters James is running, they¡¯re evening out the angel¡¯s mind-crushing song, balancing it enough that I¡¯m¡ª I stop walking forward toward the silent hole in space. Now that I can think, the singer¡¯s no angel. It looks like one, but it can¡¯t be. I draw the Revolver from my hoodie pocket, use Bullet Time, and throw three shots toward it. They hit. The song stops, and the screaming starts. It slams into me, not like a club, but like a bulldozer. A wall of force I can¡¯t hear so much as feel and see shoves me away from the angel and toward the black void it came out of. I Slither away to the monster¡¯s other side and start running. [Stability 4/10] This thing¡¯s beyond me. And it¡¯s not something a creative solution can solve. I need help. As I run, the scream fades, and the voiceless song fills R-1421 again. [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 8] Over my shoulder, the angel¡¯s pushing forward. Sound warps and warbles as it floats through the air. I give it another shot while running, but it doesn¡¯t do anything. Neither does a gravity shot a few seconds later. [Claire, I¡¯m rating this one high-Xuduo-Danger,] James says as I run. [It¡¯s a living sound anomaly¡ªI¡¯m not sure if we can classify it as living, actually, because it¡¯s not¡ª] ¡°Don¡¯t care. How do I stop it?¡± I ask between breaths. My feet slip in the mud, but I keep going. [Skill Learned: Endurance 6] [You don¡¯t. Your current skill set doesn¡¯t have a counter to it, and the helmet¡¯s going to run out of battery soon. You leave and hope it¡¯s not as fast as you are.] The angel explodes through a thick patch of purple stalks. They try to tear at it, but there¡¯s¡­nothing. They pass through its sound-void body, exploding into greenish-yellow goop. I breathe. Think about the equation. Breathe again. Then I keep running. The song pushes against my ears, and something pops. I shoot another three shots with Bullet Time, let the scream push me away, and keep moving. The angel screams and screams, and I flee into the mist. It disappears, but I can still hear it singing as it follows me toward the portal.
By the time I push back through the Jell-O portal and pop into the JAMES Experimental Sector again, I¡¯m completely exhausted. Even Endurance isn¡¯t doing much to help. I¡¯ve been running for nearly twenty minutes and fighting as I go. The helmet shut down a while ago since I didn¡¯t bother plugging in the wire as I fled from the sound angel. It would only have slowed me down. Plus, I forgot. Mostly, I forgot. The Jell-O gives way, and the voiceless song stops for a second. The Experimental Sector¡¯s changed¡ªa lot. A dozen towers surround the portal. They look a little like URAs, but three times the size and without the gyroscopes. Instead, they¡¯re all linked by a grid of wires so dense I can barely see through them, forming a cage all the way around the portal and overhead. There¡¯s no door, either. No easy way out. [Faraday cage,] James says. [They haven¡¯t turned it on yet, and I¡¯m keeping them from doing it until¡ª] Something surges through the portal. The autoturret on the ceiling starts firing before the voiceless singer¡¯s halfway through, but the bullets do nothing except pile up at its feet, stalled out like they¡¯ve hit a wall. Outside the cage, two Recovery and Stabilization Teams worth of troopers ready themselves as researchers flee. Then the angel¡¯s all the way through. A moment later, Strauss presses a button, and Doctor Twitchy presses a second one. The cage activates, filling the air with static that makes my hair float inside the helmet and pressure that feels like pushing through a Universal Reality Anchor but a hundred times worse. For a second, I can barely move. The voiceless singer¡¯s song cuts off, and the whole cage goes silent, except for the humming of electricity filling the cage around us. ¡°Do you have a plan to get me out?¡± I ask. The helmet¡¯s done, so I pull it off my head, letting my frizzed hair fly everywhere. The voiceless singer turns around mid-air, surging back toward the portal. I cross my fingers for it. Once it¡¯s through, SHOCKS can let me out. Then, the portal blinks out suddenly, and the voiceless singer wavers like a bad TV signal in a movie. [The bomb just went off. I¡¯m following SHOCKS communications, and they think the merge in¡ª] ¡°Don¡¯t care! Get me out!¡± I say, firing all seven shots into the angel¡¯s chest. They hit, it screams, and I hit the cage. Electricity courses through me, and I bounce off it a moment later, feeling like a piece of metal in a forge. Researchers push the towers closer around the cage, narrowing the space between the angel and me. [Stability 3/10] Its wings touch the cage. Electricity surges through the soundless space, filling it with light. Then, the voiceless singer collapses into almost nothing, and the cage around me overloads and explodes with a crash that deafens me completely. As I stand over what¡¯s left of the angel, two RST troopers rush through with a container. They scoop the voiceless singer¡¯s remnants into it. It¡¯s already starting to re-form. Strauss leads me toward a gaggle of researchers with Doctor Twitchy at their head. My heart¡¯s pounding, and so is my head; the adrenaline is bleeding off faster than I can center myself. We¡¯ve won. We¡¯ve shut down a merge, on purpose, using Doctor Twitchy¡¯s invention and Sergeant Strauss¡¯s device. And my power. This should be a moment of triumph. [Truth Learned: Mergekilling] [Active Skill Learned: Soundbreak] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 9] [Stability 2/10] So why does it feel like they¡¯re holding out on me?
Director Paul Ramirez led Claire Pendleton away from the overloaded Faraday cage and the deactivated portal to Reality 1421. The anomalous girl was still dazed from the overload, and she wouldn¡¯t be able to hear anything for several minutes. Still, he wanted to finish the debriefing on the device¡¯s test run before she forgot what had happened inside¡ªand while she was still a little off-kilter. Something about her gave him the shivers. Ramirez trusted her about as far as he could throw Sergeant Strauss. She had a history of clamming up, and with the JAMES Unit working for her instead of them, he couldn¡¯t coerce her at all¡ªor record any of his plans anywhere the artificial intelligence could find them. That meant the debriefing would be best served fresh while he rode the confidence of victory. The girl collapsed into a chair the moment they arrived in his office. Paul took a seat on the far side of his desk. His monitor was on, and the login page was displayed clearly. He pressed the power button to shut it off; all the other electronics in the room were disabled by default. Nothing happened. That was a bad sign. ¡°JAMES Unit, please respond,¡± he said. Claire narrowed her eyes at him, and he grabbed a yellow notepad to write a message telling her that her hearing would return soon. She nodded. ¡°Water would be good.¡± Paul stood up and grabbed a paper cup from near the sink. He filled it for her, then poured a shot of something a little stronger for himself. When he sat back down, something was typed into the login box. [I¡¯ll burn it all down. Don¡¯t test me.] Nothing else, just those eight words. Paul gulped and downed the drink, ignoring Claire¡¯s glare. Then she cleared her throat. ¡°I can hear a little. Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± she said loudly. ¡°Alright. First, the mission was a success. We¡¯re sending RST Lambda-Five to check the Mount Douglas Park merge, but we believe it¡¯s been cut off. That leaves whatever AA-3s are left there, plus any leaks of other Provisional R-2043 anomalies made it through there. We¡¯ll figure out how to clean those up later, and tomorrow¡¯s merge expedition will be cleaner as a result of what we learned today,¡± Paul said. ¡°Tomorrow?¡± Claire asked, eyes widening a little. She stuck a finger in her unaugmented ear and twisted it around. ¡°Yes. Miss Pendleton, we¡¯re facing an absolute crisis, but this is a line of attack at its core. We¡¯ve just proven that this is an option. I¡¯ll have this information to every SHOCKS office on the globe and the three in space the moment we get communications back online.¡± Paul could feel his excitement building inside, even as Claire leaned back in the chair and emptied the paper cup in one long pull. Then she said three words that crushed his good mood. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t care?¡± he asked, setting down his empty glass. ¡°This is a massive victory for SHOCKS. We¡¯ve got a line of attack against Merge Prime now. All we have to do is keep shutting down merges here, and we can actually¡ª¡° His computer screen flickered, and the text in the login box changed instantly. [Be quiet and listen.] Claire squished the paper cup. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m going to keep helping you because it¡¯s keeping Alice and Sora safe. But James will be watching you, so you¡¯d better follow through.¡± She kept glowering at him, and he couldn¡¯t help but think of every misfit teenage girl with an attitude problem. Except this one was probably stronger than any RST Trooper could handle alone. And that was a problem for him because he had to deal with her right now. People weren¡¯t his strong suite, and he knew it. He couldn¡¯t help but feel the sweat trickling past his tie, and he fought the urge to loosen it. ¡°Your sister should be finishing up a session with our research team now,¡± he said. ¡°And Dad?¡± ¡°What about him?¡± ¡°When are you going to start fixing him?¡± Claire asked, leaning forward suddenly. ¡°You have plans for me, for Alice, and even for Sora, probably. What about Dad?¡± Paul sighed. He hadn¡¯t been looking forward to this conversation, and he¡¯d been too distracted by his non-proven anomalous engine to prep for it. He didn¡¯t have many options, and none of them were good. How best to proceed? ¡°Well? I want the truth,¡± she said. He was almost tempted to tell her she couldn¡¯t handle the truth, but she wouldn¡¯t get it, so he took another deep breath. ¡°Claire, the only solution for your dad will be painful. There¡¯s no way around that. And if the JAMES Unit discovered it and told you before we started, you probably wouldn¡¯t approve.¡± No response. The nerves were getting to him, and he continued. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get him off alcohol. But there¡¯s no good way to do that here, so we¡¯re putting together a program. When we know what we¡¯re going to do, we¡¯ll tell you, I swear.¡± Claire closed her eyes, and the words on his login box disappeared. When she opened them, they swirled black with red points for a moment. Then she blinked, and they were mud-brown again¡ªa piercing, cold mud brown he usually only saw in Olivia¡¯s eyes. ¡°I hope so,¡± she said, standing and leaving. Director Ramirez waited until the door closed. He shivered. Then he waited another five seconds, breathing freely for the first time since the girl had taken control of the debriefing. As he poured himself another drink, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder when he¡¯d lost control of his own facility, and if he¡¯d ever get it back. Chapter Forty-Five SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 6, 2043, 11:37 PM - - - - - ¡°Three. Two. One.¡± The window exploded, and Strauss swung through it instantly, rolling into the room before the glass had even finished hitting the carpet. The rest of RST Lambda-Four was already up, moving down the hall and securing the house¡¯s exits as he and Rodriguez rushed for the bedroom. The target should be there, and SHOCKS needed him¡ªalive. He kicked the door right next to the handle, and it burst open; it hadn¡¯t been locked, but seconds counted on target-acquisition missions, and the RST wasn¡¯t worried about leaving evidence behind. Speed over stealth. Rodriguez had her gun up, the selector set to stun, so Strauss moved toward the only other door. The blueprint had said it was a walk-in closet, but Rodriguez¡¯s plan wasn¡¯t taking any chances. Rodriguez was already shouting orders at the man in the bed, her weapon in his face. Something about an arrest for drug use and distribution. Strauss rolled his eyes behind his face shield; that was a lie. Eric Baynard was clean. He¡¯d been clean his whole life. He was a pediatric augment specialist, though, and he had experience installing the specific model of aug that, even now, a SHOCKS agent was acquiring. And right now, that was what Director Ramirez believed his plan needed. Strauss hoped it was true. Getting an anomalous human off the street was one thing, but kidnapping a civvie? That didn¡¯t sit right with him, and they¡¯d been doing it a lot recently.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 7, 2043, 5:15 AM - - - - - I wake up way too early. Again. It¡¯s becoming a habit, and not one I asked for. I used to get up early enough to get Alice moving before school, but not like this. The sun probably isn¡¯t even up yet. Doctor Twitchy has a long, long list of realities to visit, and so far, we¡¯re only four deep into it. All Geren-Danger, but still¡ªI¡¯ve been busy every day. After R-1421, we visited R-780. It barely even qualified as Geren. The hard part was navigating it, not anything monstrous; it¡¯s a constantly shifting reality, and apparently, it¡¯s been causing problems near Ucluelet. Not anymore. It took me almost seven hours in the borderline unreal space, and I felt way too thin when I got out, but it¡¯s disconnected from Victoria now. So are R-36 and R-1598. The first one was weird. Everything in it was me. The walls were me. The monsters were me. Even the sky, somehow, was me. Eventually, I solved that one by convincing myself to stop merging with R-0. My migraine was brutal for the rest of the day; all I could do was try¡ªand fail¡ªto sleep. And the other one? That one dropped me into the middle of a battlefield, but one where I was a giant. The tallest person fighting there was maybe half an inch, and nothing the armies had could even make me bleed. I tried not to kill too many of the tiny people as I destroyed their merge gate with the Revolver¡ªwhich outclassed their weapons by a thousand times. So, that¡¯s four realities explored, and four merges stopped. There¡¯s no new message from Doctor Twitchy on my monitor across the room. So that¡¯s a nice change. And I have grown from all this. It¡¯s not extreme growth, but it¡¯s growth. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 5/10 ?Skills - Endurance 6, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 7, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 14, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 9, Memetic Resistance 8, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 3, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape: ERROR. Missing Component, Soundbreak ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? James hasn¡¯t made any progress on figuring out the Mindscape skill, and neither have I. It¡¯s supposed to be sleep-based, but the missing component is a problem. Soundbreak¡¯s a weird one, though. It¡¯s like a wave of pressure and sound, then a void behind it. When it snaps back, it causes an implosion and shockwave that shatters concrete. Not much concrete; it¡¯s like peeling layers off a wall, not exploding it. But it¡¯s nice to have something that¡¯s not just the Revolver. 5:17. 5:18. My bed¡¯s comfortable, and I don¡¯t have any real interest in getting up. For the last three days, there¡¯s been a message: '' Claire Pendleton, report to the JAMES Experimental Sector for [REDACTED].¡¯ It¡¯s not here today, so I shut my eyes again. The monitor will beep when Doctor Twitchy¡¯s got a job for me, anyway. James wanted to deactivate it, but I insisted. One small sacrifice to smooth things over; it can beep at me, since James is turning off every other interaction SHOCKS has with me short of sending someone to knock on my door. They have to be able to talk to me, right? I close my eyes for just a second. The monitor beeps at me. The clock says 6:45. A miracle¡ªenough sleep. I get up, pad over to it in my pajamas, and stare at the message. ¡®Claire Pendleton, report to Director Ramirez¡¯s office at your convenience.¡¯ Well, that¡¯s different.
I report at my convenience. After a shower and a plastic container of yogurt¡ªvanilla, of course¡ªout of my mini-fridge, I¡¯m almost ready to deal with Doctor Twitchy. But before I go, there¡¯s something else I need to do. I walk down the hall, swallow my nervousness as best I can, and open Dad¡¯s door. His room¡¯s a lot like the living room back in our basic living apartment but with a few extra features. The bed¡¯s untouched and perfectly made in the corner, though Dad¡¯s tossed a few changes of clothes on it. The TV¡¯s on. It¡¯s still blaring news at his chair, and even though it¡¯s not the same tattered armchair, it¡¯s floating in a sea of bottles and cans, just like the one at home. I¡¯d rather not be here. I¡¯d rather deal with my next errand first. ¡°Hi, Dad,¡± I say. He turns his head and looks my way for a second. Then he mutes the TV. ¡°What do you want, Claire?¡± To leave, I don¡¯t say. I can¡¯t stop playing with my hoodie pulls, rubbing them back and forth in one hand. I do say, ¡°I lost Mom¡¯s dress, but I know who might have it, and I¡¯m going to get it back.¡± That¡¯s one of the rules for confessing something to Dad. Never let the last part of your sentence be the bad news. Before he can do more than narrow his eyes, I keep going. ¡°When I went missing, I ended up in a hospital room near here. They must have taken it because I woke up in a hospital gown, and later, they gave me leggings and a hoodie. I never saw it again, but I bet they kept it. I¡¯m going to try to find it and bring it back, okay?¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. That¡¯s the other thing. Catching him when he¡¯s just woken up is usually the best time. Sure, he¡¯s hung-over, but he¡¯s not drunk. He nods slowly. ¡°You¡¯d better.¡± There¡¯s a threat there, but I ignore it. Or at least, I don¡¯t put him in his place. I could. The truth is that Dad hasn¡¯t scared me since I came back home. But I don¡¯t want to break him, and he¡¯s already powerless here. He used to be a rock, and it¡¯s going to be a process for him to be one again¡ªif he even wants to. ¡°Do you need anything?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah. Fridge. Something light for the morning.¡± The TV starts again, an endless tsunami of news crashing over Dad, and he stops paying attention to me. I don¡¯t stop paying attention to him, though. Even when I stop watching him and grab the ice-cold can out of the mini-fridge, I¡¯m still listening. The can¡¯s not a brand I recognize at all. I grab it anyway. There¡¯s a current of soft, steady breaths under the TV¡¯s waves, and it doesn¡¯t stop when I hand him the can. It doesn¡¯t stop until I¡¯m out in the hall again, and I can finally breathe easy myself. Next up is Alice. I take a minute to reset after a perfect Dad conversation; she¡¯d be proud of how well I kept myself together. Then, I open the door to her room. She¡¯s asleep. Of course, she¡¯s asleep. That¡¯s familiar, and a grin creeps across my face as I think about waking her up. I can probably have her in the shower before she realizes we¡¯re not going to be late for school. Instead, I write a note on the whiteboard. She had one of those in our room, next to her makeup table and mirror. It had her schedule. That one was full of expo marker writing. This one¡¯s blank. That makes sense; it¡¯s not like she has any obligations. I scribble something on it. Lunch with Claire - June 7, 12:30 That¡¯ll be enough to catch up, and maybe enough to start getting her on some sort of schedule. The last four days have been hard for her. She¡¯s met with the researchers several times, but there¡¯s no progress on the Li Mei problem¡ªjust like I thought. And the only people she can put on a mask for are Dad, Itsuki, or Mr. and Mrs. Ito. She¡¯s got to be drowning without all her masks. A lunch with me might be enough to let her wear the Big Sister one again. I can only hope, because she¡¯s not herself at all here. I leave before she can wake up. Outside of our wing, SHOCKS keeps operating in a frenzy. An RST trooper falls in behind me; I¡¯m too valuable for them to let me wander off. I ignore her and weave through the researchers and agents moving through the halls and checking in on the anomalies they¡¯ve still contained. It takes a few minutes to get through everything, but eventually, I find myself outside Doctor Twitchy¡¯s office. It¡¯s past seven-thirty, but I don¡¯t care that he¡¯s been waiting for a solid hour. He said my convenience, not urgently, so it¡¯s not a mission. And, according to James, I¡¯m supposed to be in charge. He shouldn¡¯t be able to summon me at will. James is busy. Chicago¡¯s going now, and so are Beijing and Tokyo, so for the foreseeable future, he¡¯s more ¡®on call¡¯ and less ¡®actively here¡¯ when I¡¯m not going Mergewalking. That¡¯s fine. He¡¯s still watching, just not directly engaged. I open the door. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s at one desk, and Lieutenant Rodriguez sits at a smaller one. She looks up for a second, then returns to whatever she¡¯s working on. Her eyes have bags under them, and she slumps in her seat. Is that just exhaustion from dealing with Merge Prime for two weeks? Or was last night a rough one? Doctor Twitchy clicks something on his screen and stands up. ¡°Claire, I have good news. We¡¯ve acquired both a new set of augs for you and an expert to do the installation.¡±
The augs are Radia AO-Four Silvers. They¡¯re not top-end¡ªthat¡¯s the platinum line¡ªbut they¡¯re a massive upgrade over my charity augs. They have better heat dispersal, faster zooms, and more storage for images. Or for games. I¡¯m already looking forward to expanding my horizons past Knights of the Apocalypse Three. James is thrilled, too. He¡¯s trying not to show it, but all of a sudden, his attention¡¯s back on me. I can tell he¡¯s looking forward to augs that actually work for a change. As Doctor Twitchy blabs on and on about the augs, dumbing them down as we walk down the hall, James pulls up the real specs. They¡¯re good. Compared to my augs, they might as well be light years ahead. [I¡¯m estimating seventy-three percent longer Analysis simulations,] James says. [Less heat build-up, too. I should be able to task an individual camera to my direct control, too, so I can adjust my field of vision without interfering with yours too much. Plus, we can run the thermal and sonar add-ons. Nothing you¡¯re easily compatible with is going to run an X-ray vision suite, so this is as good as it gets for now. The aural augs are a massive upgrade, too. I¡¯ll be able to pick up sub-hearing decibel sounds, and we should be able to take advantage of that. Doctor Twitchy coughs once. ¡°Our installation expert¡¯s in the medical wing. You¡¯ve been there before, but we¡¯ll need to put you completely under for the installation.¡± ¡°No,¡± I say before I can think about it. Then I look away. The truth is that there¡¯s no way anyone can install an aug in my ear¡ªto say nothing of my eye¡ªwithout knocking me out. But that¡¯s a problem; I trust SHOCKS about¡­not at all. ¡°James, thoughts?¡± [I¡¯m already in all the systems,] he says, [So that should be fine.] It should be. But it¡¯s not. I stop walking. ¡°We need to talk. All three of us¡ªright here. James, are you in his aug?¡± [Yes. Hello, Director Ramirez.] James¡¯s voice changes. It¡¯s digital and synthetic all of a sudden; he¡¯s lying to Doctor Twitchy about what he is. ¡°Okay. James, can you guarantee I¡¯ll be safe through this?¡± [Yes. I have complete control over all connected and non-gapped systems in SHOCKS,] he says. Doctor Twitchy doesn¡¯t say anything. His hand taps against his side, though; he¡¯s nervous. I watch as he looks up and to the right, where his aug must be. He¡¯s listening to James say something, but I don¡¯t know what. Why doesn¡¯t James want to share it with me? For a second¡ªone horrible second¡ªI wonder if he¡¯s planning to double-cross me. But no, that¡¯s stupid. If he wanted to do that, he¡¯s had plenty of chances. So he¡¯s threatening Doctor Twitchy or something. Judging by the bogeyman¡¯s face, it¡¯s got to be that. A moment later, James¡¯s voice comes in over my aug. It¡¯s his real voice¡ªor at least, the British-sounding one I like. [Okay, I¡¯ve got an idea of which room they¡¯re going to upgrade you in, and I¡¯m shifting over a few processing loops to follow you more closely. If anything does happen, I¡¯ve explained to Director Ramirez that I¡¯ll release all the Xuduo-Danger anomalies, seal your friends and family in the safe wing, and open all the other security doors.] ¡°So, uh, yes. The operating room is ready. It¡¯ll be you and the expert. No SHOCKS personnel, as requested by the JAMES Unit. We¡¯ll put our merge explorations on hold until you¡¯ve adjusted fully to the new augs. After that, I¡¯m looking at a couple of key high-Geren to low-Xuduo-Danger realities we might be able to shut down¡­but, er, that¡¯s a later conversation,¡± Doctor Twitchy¡¯s ramble fades slowly as I stare at him, and he leads me down the hall. He drops me off at a small room next to the place where the surgery¡¯s going to happen. The moment he leaves, my heart starts racing. The room looks a lot like the exam room in Aberdeen Hospital, and the hospital gown¡¯s eerily familiar, too. People died in that place. The anomalies that came through killed them. But SHOCKS doesn¡¯t want me dead, and they can¡¯t put me in a box right now. I take a deep breath and start changing, but my shoulders won¡¯t loosen up. ¡°James, make sure they knock me out before I leave this room,¡± I demand. If the operating room looks anything like the one in Aberdeen, I¡¯m going to lose my shit, so it¡¯s better if I don¡¯t see it at all. [Got it, Claire. It¡¯s going to be okay.] I relax instantly, even though it¡¯s the same line Mom and Alice and a dozen adults have fed me. James won¡¯t let anything happen to me here. He¡¯s telling me the truth.
I wake up in my room. Not the surgical room or the room I got ready in. My room, in the wing James says is safe. My augs are offline, but the vertigo¡¯s not as bad as last time. The IV in my arm feels familiar. And unwelcome. Is SHOCKS drugging me again? My hand follows the line as my single eye slowly focuses and unfocuses. But before my clumsy fingers can find the IV stand, someone touches my fingers, and I pull back and ball my fist. ¡°Claire, good news,¡± Doctor Twitchy says cheerily. It¡¯s tough to hear him through a single ear. ¡°The installation was a success. Two-hour operation, a little slower than we were hoping, but according to the JAMES Unit, the augs should take between six and twenty-four hours to sync with your body fully. Until then, you¡¯re on your own.¡± ¡°Wha?¡± The word feels mealy in my mouth. My tongue¡¯s huge, and I bite it a little bit as I finish the word. Doctor Twitchy laughs, and I glare at him. ¡°You¡¯re coming out of anesthesia. The augs need time to sync so you can use them correctly, and we can¡¯t rush that process. Otherwise, we could cause real damage to your vision and hearing. The JAMES Unit agrees with our assessment, and in fact, it threatened us if we forced you back into duty before June Ninth. Unfortunately, that means we¡¯re likely sacrificing some smaller communities on Vancouver Island and elsewhere, but the JAMES Unit is correct that we can¡¯t rush.¡± ¡°Proof?¡± ¡°You want me to prove the JAMES Unit¡¯s still active and looking out for you?¡± Doctor Twitchy asks. I nod. This seems like bullshit to me. Could SHOCKS have figured out how to counter James¡¯s takeover? Or are they just going for it and calling his bluff? I want to ask him, but right now, I¡¯m cut off. ¡°Okay, I can do that. The JAMES Unit suggested a phone call, and we have your old phone. Will that do?¡± ¡°Text, too.¡± It¡¯s hard to think. My head¡¯s so fuzzy. ¡°Understood.¡± Doctor Twitchy pulls out the phone. He¡¯s had it the whole time, and for a second, I want to grab him and try to find my mom¡¯s dress, too. He has to know what happened to it. He probably has it in storage somewhere, like it¡¯s anomalous, too. Then James¡¯s voice comes over the phone. [Sorry. I thought it¡¯d go faster. All the installation information read as a thirty-minute process, usually while the aug host was out, but according to the expert, you¡¯ve got some damage in your nerve/aug connections from running your old augs hot. That¡¯s why it¡¯s going to take longer. The expert had to set the sync to several small steps.] I collapse back into bed. Just that information¡¯s enough. That, and James¡¯s voice. ¡°¡¯Kay,¡± I say. It¡¯s about all I can handle verbally. [I¡¯m running double processing loops to make sure SHOCKS isn¡¯t trying anything, Claire. The doc they found wasn¡¯t a volunteer. They picked him up last night, then amnestitized him and dumped him back at his home when they were done with him. He¡¯d have no reason to lie about this, though, and the burnt nerves make sense to me. That¡¯s partially my fault. Sorry.] ¡°So, you¡¯re convinced?¡± Doctor Twitchy asks. Then, he puts a hand half over his mouth a moment later. ¡°I mean, you¡¯re not going to panic about being cut off from the JAMES Unit for a few hours?¡± ¡°No. ¡°S¡¯good.¡± And it is. I don¡¯t like it. But it¡¯ll be fine. I think. No one¡¯s lying, and James has control over the situation. So, as Doctor Twitchy takes the phone and sets it on my desk next to the computer monitor, I let myself drift off in the room¡¯s silence. Chapter Forty-Six I should never have taken Mom¡¯s dress. SHOCKS probably has my cargo pants somewhere, too. And my shoes¡ªbut they can keep those, or, hopefully, burn them. They were holey, and they stank. The ones they gave me with the oversized RST armor were so much better. But the dress. She stopped wearing it around the same time Dad started searching the newspapers for work, so I only remember her in it once or twice. But she was so pretty. I drew pictures of her in it and everything. For a little while, I had one taped to the fridge. That was before we moved to basic living, though. Dad threw out most of her clothes, but he kept the dress. Alice and I knew where it was¡ªhis bottom drawer. It was easy to get a hold of it, and I wanted to look okay at Alice¡¯s graduation. But I still shouldn¡¯t have taken it.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 8, 2043, 1:12 AM - - - - - I wake up sweating¡ªthe same old nightmare again, but with a tiny change. Just one, but it¡¯s enough that I can¡¯t shake it. My eyes pop open¡ªone sees the dark room, a glowing alarm clock, and the hall light leaking in through my door¡¯s window. The other sees nothing for a second, and I bite down the panic until I feel the bandage over it. Maybe it¡¯s too soon for this, but I have to know. I slowly work the gauze off my face. It sticks to my cheek and ear a little, but once it¡¯s off, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Both eyes are working. Next, I clap. The aug picks it up perfectly. Too perfectly; it hurts a little, it¡¯s so loud. But it does get James¡¯s attention. He starts talking as I adjust the aug¡¯s settings. [Claire, you¡¯re awake. I¡¯m going to run a quick diagnost¡ªdone. Augs are both operating at about ninety-four percent of optimal. Given your nerve burns, that¡¯s about the best we can hope for. It¡¯s also a significant increase to your hearing and vision.] ¡°Yeah, I remember the specs.¡± I get up, pull off the hospital gown and IV, and get dressed in my hoodie and leggings combo. As I go through that process, I keep talking. ¡°I¡¯ve got to do something, and I¡¯m going to do it tonight. It¡¯s personal. You could probably force SHOCKS to do it in a minute, but I need to do it myself. Mostly, at least. If I ask for help, will you do it?¡± [Of course,] James says. ¡°Great.¡± I look at the boots in the corner for a second¡ªI¡¯ve had them since the outdoor store¡ªand then shake my head. Socks will be better. ¡°Make sure the cameras can¡¯t see me.¡± [Done.] His voice is serious, clipped, and professional. It matches the tone I wish I had in my head. But all that¡¯s there is the truth. I stole the dress, and I need to get it back for Dad. Somehow, that¡¯ll help. Him. Me. I don¡¯t know who. But it¡¯ll help someone. And maybe it¡¯ll make the dream go back to normal, because Mom wasn¡¯t wearing the dress that night. I slip out the door, closing it behind me, and set out to keep my promise to Dad. It doesn¡¯t take long to realize something¡¯s wrong at SHOCKS Headquarters. In fact, I don¡¯t even get out of our wing. The guard who¡¯s supposed to be at the end of our hall to make sure Alice doesn¡¯t wander off¡ªsince she¡¯s technically a Xuduo-Danger anomaly, or at least bonded with one¡ªisn¡¯t at her post. The building¡¯s alarms aren¡¯t going off, though, so even though my neck hairs are standing up again and my ears are ringing faintly, I simply check that the Revolver¡¯s in my pocket and move down the hall. Whatever¡¯s going on, it¡¯s only going to help me right now. The containment wing outside my family¡¯s hallway is eerily quiet. There¡¯s not a single researcher on the floor, and the cells are all silent¡ªeven the ones that usually make noise. Maybe that¡¯s what really woke me up, and not the nightmare. The silence. That¡¯d be a relief; I¡¯ve gotten better at sleeping through them as I¡¯ve grown up. The truth is that they usually don¡¯t bother me much anymore. But I still want that damn dress back, so I creep down the hall, hand on the Revolver¡¯s warm grip just in case something happens. I don¡¯t regret just going with my socks. The floor¡¯s freezing tiles contrast with my gun, but it¡¯s so much quieter than trying to sneak in boots. [Claire. Problem.] James¡¯s voice cuts through my thoughts halfway down the hall. [Alice is missing.] ¡°What?¡± I hiss, narrowing my eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be keeping an eye on her?¡± [She''s cut the cameras and her aug out completely.] That doesn¡¯t sound like an Alice thing to me. ¡°Great. So, whatever Li Mei¡¯s up to, she¡¯s done it in the last few minutes. The dress will have to wait.¡± I pull the Revolver, switch cylinders, and double back toward Alice¡¯s room.
So. Uh, yeah. Whatever¡¯s going on, it looks like it¡¯s my fault. Again. Alice¡¯s room is trashed. Completely destroyed, like she lost her shit about something. Spilled yogurt by the mini-fridge. Laundry everywhere¡ªthat¡¯s normal, but this is the clean stuff, not just the dirty. Some of that could be normal wear and tear, but I was just in her room this morning, and from a quick inspection, it got a lot worse sometime tonight. The most damning bit of evidence is the whiteboard, though. She¡¯s smashed her marker into it; its tip¡¯s squished all the way into the plastic, and she¡¯s drawn an angry-looking tornado of a circle around my note to her. Yep. My fault. My stomach¡¯s in my throat, but I try to let the math take over. She¡¯s somewhere in SHOCKS Headquarters. She has to be; Li Mei wouldn¡¯t leave¡ªnot when she wants to be freed from Alice as much as Alice does her. So that¡¯s one variable solved. And they¡¯re not running the alarms, so maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªLi Mei¡¯s not in the driver¡¯s seat. I can¡¯t confirm that yet, so I leave that as Y. I can hope, though. The answer¡¯s pretty simple, though. Since it¡¯s my fault, I need to track her down and get her back under control before she loses control¡ªassuming she¡¯s still in control when I do find her. There¡¯s one other variable, but it doesn¡¯t change what I have to do. It¡¯s just junk math¡ªthe kind of busy work Mrs. Helquist never assigned, but my middle school teachers always did. SHOCKS is definitely after Alice, too, and I need to beat them to her. Easy peasy. So, after James pops the other rooms¡¯ doors and I make sure Alice isn¡¯t hiding in Sora¡¯s shadow or anything weird like that, it¡¯s back into the main wings. [Sorry,] James apologizes for the hundredth time. [I¡¯m watching the cameras. If I see her, I¡¯ll loop the footage to keep them away from her. But it¡¯s unlikely.] ¡°Thanks,¡± I breathe as I hurry past the Geren-Danger cells again. They¡¯re still quiet, but the plain, slightly rusted doors stand at attention like soldiers, and the viewing ports stare accusatorially at me. I¡¯m working through the puzzle: If I was Li Mei, where would I go? What if I was Alice? SHOCKS is probably thinking about Li Mei and discounting Alice. The infovampire¡¯s the worst-case scenario, after all. That means they¡¯ll search where the information is. The computers in the office space, or Doctor Twitchy¡¯s office, are both prime suspects. If Li Mei¡¯s driving, she¡¯ll start there¡ªor at least that¡¯s what SHOCKS probably thinks. They¡¯ve got a good idea of her habits, so they¡¯ll be there. [Confirmed,] James says when I run my thoughts past him. [Most of their people are there. A few are watching the exits, but as far as I can tell, no one¡¯s seen anything yet.]Stolen story; please report. ¡°Got it.¡± I turn and jog in a different direction. [Where are you going?] ¡°If it was just Li Mei, she¡¯d probably go to the offices or the Experimental Sector, or she¡¯d try to kill me for messing up our friendship. Since she¡¯s not trying to kill me, and she¡¯s not at the offices, that leaves the Experimental Sector. That would tip off SHOCKS, and the bogeymen would be after her in a heartbeat. So, it¡¯s not Li Mei, which means it¡¯s Alice,¡± I¡¯m moving faster now, because even though Li Mei¡¯s the worst-case scenario, Alice loose and unbalanced is almost as bad, just in a different¡ªand more personal¡ªway. [So, where is she?] ¡°I have a guess.¡± I run toward the medical wing, past the turn to the Anquan-Danger wing. My aug goes haywire a second later, and I see my sister from a camera. She¡¯s wearing pajamas and sitting in an office chair outside a familiar-looking, plexiglass-walled room with a single bed and shower. As I turn on the speed and push my Endurance to the limit, her black eyes turn toward the computer in front of her, and the see-through door opens. She unseals the box that once held the Revolver, then scratches her head. ¡°Shit,¡± I mutter. A dozen possibilities run through my head, a dozen different tests SHOCKS tried to separate the Revolver from me. Could she really be thinking about¡­? I crash into the room behind her as she shuts the plexiglass one. It locks behind her. ¡°Hi, Claire.¡± Alice¡¯s voice is brittle, but there¡¯s a tiny lilt of playfulness that¡¯s not matched by the bags under jey-black eyes with the bright crimson cores. Li Mei¡¯s here, too. She sits down on the mattress and stares at me. ¡°Are you here to help me?¡± I¡¯m not. Not in the way she wants, at least. ¡°What do you need?¡± I ask, sitting in the chair and facing the computer. It¡¯s got a log filled with different tests. There are more than I remember, and some that were never attempted. All sorts of stuff: electrical stimulation, exposure to various anomalies, and multiple simulated death experiments designed to reset the patient¡¯s¡ªmy¡ªbrain to factory settings. [None of these are good ideas for her,] James says. ¡°I need Li Mei out of me, and she needs out, too. We¡¯re going to figure this out through trial and error¡ªone experiment at a time. They¡¯ve been recording my results there, but they wouldn¡¯t let me see them, and they kept telling me there were some procedures they wouldn¡¯t try because they were too dangerous. Well, Li Mei being in my brain is too dangerous,¡± Alice says. She¡¯s completely stiff, and her words come out in a monotone, like she¡¯s practiced this speech. Maybe she has. Maybe this is like her commencement speech. I look more closely at the experiments. In the last three days, she¡¯s worked through most of the ones I remember, including all the ones SHOCKS thinks are safe and some of the more risky procedures. So, as Alice stares at me, I push the chair away from the computer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I missed lunch.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have been anything, anyway,¡± she snaps back, emotion flaring for a second before the thin mask she¡¯s been wearing falls back over her face and she looks exhausted and numb again. ¡°Can I come in?¡± I ask, even though she has no control over the door now that she¡¯s inside. The Revolver¡¯s in my pocket, just in case Li Mei¡¯s stronger than Alice. She hasn¡¯t been so far, though, and I¡¯m willing to take the risk. ¡°No.¡± That¡¯s the answer I expected, but I pout a little anyway. ¡°James, are you¡­¡± [I¡¯ve got a loop running, yes. SHOCKS can¡¯t see any of this, and they think you¡¯re in bed.] ¡°Great. Alice, I need your help. Can I at least explain why I wasn¡¯t there?¡± I stand up and walk to the plexiglass door. ¡°Fine. Talk.¡± Everything about her says she doesn¡¯t care except her eyes. For the first time, they sparkle. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s enough. The sparkle doesn¡¯t go away as I explain the augs, the nerve burns, and the vertigo and post-surgery fog. It¡¯s scary, and I fight a shiver the whole time. When I finally finish explaining my thought process for finding her, she sighs and slumps onto the sheetless mattress. ¡°Come here.¡± She¡¯s got a mask on. It¡¯s not Valedictorian Alice, though. It¡¯s Mom Alice. But you know what? That¡¯s a start.
Alice steeled herself as the door clicked shut behind her little sister. Claire had always been a little careless, but this was ridiculous; she¡¯d locked them in until the scientists realized where they were! Alice could leave any time, of course. Li Mei¡¯s power could fade her right through that wall and straight to her bedroom. But Claire? Not so much. Her eyebrows furrowed in a disapproving glare, and she started to stand up, but Claire held up a hand. ¡°It¡¯s electronic and connected. James has it.¡± Of course, Alice thought, James. The slightly friendlier voice in her head, not quite as insistent as Li Mei¡¯s attempts to feed, but more certain of himself, more arrogant¡ªand even though Claire had asked him to present androgynously, she couldn¡¯t stop thinking of him as him. That presented all sorts of problems that Claire either didn¡¯t see or was ignoring. But Alice and James had figured out a fragile sort of peace. He did the minimum observation he could. She ignored him and pretended he wasn¡¯t a part of her life. It had been working well. Well, well-ish; she couldn¡¯t shake his presence completely, and she wanted him gone almost as badly as she did Li Mei. That voice was currently losing her shit in the back of Alice¡¯s mind. She¡¯d had enough of Alice¡¯s too-slow attempts to separate them, and she¡¯d started getting a lot more threatening. Alice didn¡¯t want to be a day sleeper, but Li Mei took so much energy to manage. Claire sat down next to her, bumping shoulders slightly, and Alice pushed thoughts about James and Li Mei and the scientists¡¯s attempts to get rid of them out of her head. None of that mattered right now. She was the big sister here, and Claire needed her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She wrapped an arm around her little sister. Claire stiffened. ¡° I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t show up yesterday,¡± she said again. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Alice lied. Claire didn¡¯t react like she sometimes did, and Alice let herself relax just the tiniest bit. ¡°The doctors are working on me, right? They¡¯ll figure something out, and Li Mei and I will go our separate ways. Or maybe she¡¯ll die. Either way, we¡¯ll be able to get back to normal.¡± For a minute, Claire didn¡¯t say anything. As the silence stretched past awkward and all the way to uncomfortable, Alice cleared her throat. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s get out of here and go back to bed.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a better idea,¡± Claire said. ¡°I need to get something back from the bogeymen, and I need your help.¡±
I don¡¯t need Alice¡¯s help. This would be easier without her. I should have let her lock herself into that room and came back for her later. All those things are true. But what¡¯s also true is that, even though I don¡¯t need her help, I can¡¯t let her out of my sight until I¡¯m ready to have a private conversation with James. And I can¡¯t do that until I¡¯m sure she¡¯s asleep. And once she¡¯s awake, getting her back down is tough, so I need to wear her out a little. All those parts of the equation are why she¡¯s coming with me as I head toward what James has helpfully pointed out are the ¡®Anquan Item Lockers.¡¯ If the dress is anywhere, it¡¯ll be there. And, equally importantly, there shouldn¡¯t be much security. The items are all Anquan-Danger, barely a threat if they¡¯re being actively used, and with little to no way of entering a dangerously anomalous state without certain conditions. It¡¯s also, helpfully, about as far from Doctor Twitchy¡¯s office, the JAMES Experimental Sector, and the Medical Wing as you can get and still be in the SHOCKS building. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you lost it here,¡± Alice whispers as we hurry. I keep my eyes from rolling; she shouldn¡¯t be here, and the Mom Alice mask is back on in force. ¡°You know how much it means to Dad.¡± ¡°I know, I know. I already told him.¡± ¡°Was he¡­¡± ¡°Yes. He pretty much ignored me and just asked for another beer.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Something about that response hits me wrong. It¡¯s not that it¡¯s a lie, because it¡¯s not. It¡¯s that for a second, Alice¡¯s mask slipped again. It¡¯s too blunt. I¡¯ll come back to that later because it¡¯s a weak spot I¡¯ve known about, but it¡¯s never been this glaring. We stop outside the door to the storage room. It¡¯s locked. Then, a second later, it¡¯s not. Say what you want about him, it¡¯s nice having an all-seeing, all-knowing pseudo-AI at my disposal. Well¡­almost all-seeing and all-knowing; he nearly let my sister try to start experiments on herself that were so dangerous that even the bogeymen wouldn¡¯t do them to me. I decide we¡¯ll talk about that later, but for now, James is helpful, and that¡¯s all I can ask. Besides, it¡¯s not his fault. Li Mei was clearly holding out on SHOCKS, or she¡¯s developed some new powers. That¡¯s got to be the truth. It was Li Mei pushing this. I open the door and slip in. [Ordinarily, I¡¯d let you do a little searching on your own since you seemed to think this was your penance for losing the dress in the first place,] James says, [but SHOCKS is going to start looking for Alice more actively soon, so we need to move quickly. End of the hall, third locker from the end, on the left.] ¡°Watch Alice. Let me know if she does anything dumb,¡± I say. ¡°What?¡± Her head turns toward me. [Got it. By the way, it¡¯s not your fault.] ¡°Nothing,¡± I tell Alice, ignoring James. I start walking down the hall, past plexiglass lockers. An umbrella that looks like it was bent back by the wind, constantly dripping water that drains down a pipe in the floor. A self-building Lego set. Replicating loaves of bread¡ªas I stop to look at that one, a flame ticks on and starts incinerating them, leaving nothing but ash. And then, hanging from a hangar, Mom¡¯s dress. It¡¯s been dry-cleaned. That¡¯s the first thing I notice. The rips and tears from my fight through West End High are all fixed, and the fabric¡¯s as clean as it was the day I pulled it out of Dad¡¯s bottom drawer. There¡¯s a card stuck to the glass. ¡®Supplementary Object - 573-V-1/IO Alpha-A: No known anomalous behavior,¡¯ it reads. I ignore it. ¡°Open it up.¡± A second later, James pops the door open, and I pull the hangar out. ¡°We¡¯ll get this back to Dad tomorrow. For now, let¡¯s go.¡± Our retreat back to our wing is easy enough. SHOCKS still isn¡¯t moving around, and James expertly manipulates the cameras so no one can see us moving through the hall. Alice insists on taking the dress back right now, but I hold firm. I do take the longer way through the halls, though, just to pass by the door to the JAMES Experimental Sector. Call it an experiment. But nothing happens, and by the time we get back home¡ªhome, ha¡ªAlice looks even more exhausted. ¡°Have you been sleeping?¡± I ask her. That¡¯s a mistake. The Mom Alice mask cracks, and regular old Alice glares at me with her dead-looking, baggy eyes. ¡°No.¡± That¡¯s a lie. She was asleep when I visited her yesterday. But I let it go, drop her off, and slip back into my room. James and I have a lot to discuss. Chapter Forty-Seven The toughest part about Alice¡¯s Mom mask isn¡¯t that it¡¯s a lie. It¡¯s that she¡¯s only three years older than me. With that kind of age gap, you can¡¯t use the usual ¡®I¡¯m sick¡¯ tricks to get out of going to school when you don¡¯t want to¡ªsay, when Candice wants to take your last cigarette or a rumor¡¯s going around that you¡¯re crazy. Sticking the thermometer next to a light or getting up to mix fake throw-up for the toilet? That doesn¡¯t work when your ¡®mom¡¯ sleeps on the top bunk. It works both ways, though, because when I was sick, she knew it. And if she didn¡¯t, she¡¯d know in a couple of days, when she came down with a runny nose and scratchy throat. That¡¯d show her.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 8, 2043, 7:15 AM - - - - - In theory, I have one more day off. In theory. In practice, there¡¯s a message on the screen when I wake up. That¡¯s annoying; it should have beeped. And it shouldn¡¯t be there at all. I¡¯m still recovering, and I¡¯m tired. James and I had a talk about security and my sister. I tried not to be too angry with him. Really, I did. But the truth is that she proved I can¡¯t trust her, and he proved he¡¯s too¡­something. Can an all-seeing, all-knowing pseudo-AI be too trusting? Because that¡¯s what it looks like. He wasn¡¯t watching her constantly. They¡¯d worked out some sort of deal to give her privacy. I mean, I get it. But also, she¡¯s got Li Mei, so¡­yeah¡­I don¡¯t get it. Then she got past him, and neither of us are sure how. It¡¯s hard to believe, but it happened last night, and Alice could have done something stupid if I hadn¡¯t gotten ahead of her. The other question is how James couldn¡¯t find her instantly. He¡¯s pretty sure it has to do with Li Mei¡¯s infovampiric anomaly. [I think she ate herself out of the cameras as she passed them. That¡¯s new.] If true, my sister¡¯s a problem. I¡¯m not sure how to solve this one, either. But for now, I table it. She¡¯s back in her room, sleeping off another late night, and then the doctors will take her for more testing later today. As far as James or I can tell, they¡¯re thrilled to have a willing subject for anomaly de-bonding procedures. That gives me the shivers just thinking about it. I head for the garage. Doctor Twitchy has something new there, and the message said it¡¯s a major problem. When I arrive, Doctor Twitchy¡¯s not there. Lieutenant Rodriguez is, along with the rest of Recovery and Stabilization Team Lambda-Four. They¡¯ve got one of those armored trucks idling nearby, and they¡¯re all dressed for combat and stealth. Even Strauss has left his toolbag behind in favor of more ammo for his rifle. ¡°Claire,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says, and I nod in response. One of my conditions after the second Mergewalk was that they ditch the letter/number code for me. It¡¯s nice to hear my name. ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem out near Sooke.¡± Sooke¡¯s pretty close to Albert Head, where I went to school. It¡¯s not anything compared to Victoria, but I knew a couple of kids from there. Samantha¡¯s the only one I remember. She was black and tall, and she played keeper on the soccer team. She wasn¡¯t exactly friends with Candice and Alice, but that didn¡¯t mean she was one of my friends, either. We ignored each other, me under the bleachers, her standing at the goal. Anyway. Sooke. It¡¯s a little tourist and fishing town. Beachfront property, boats and harbors¡­all that stuff. And it¡¯s also where an anomalous disease outbreak started ten or so days back. ¡°Last night, we had our first breach on the quarantine around the Sooke Exclusion Zone. Until now, we¡¯ve had infrequent contact with the infected, and our barrier and a few agents have been enough to keep the quarantine intact. This was an organized assault, and Lambda-Five was called in to help manage it and to prevent it from reaching Albert Head,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez reads from her aug. ¡°Lambda Five pushed the quarantine zone back to its old boundaries, but when they attempted to enter the infected zone, they reported signs of a disease cult and pulled back.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Strauss says. ¡°We know you¡¯re technically off duty, but we need your help with this,¡± Rodriguez continues. ¡°We¡¯re going in fully suited up, and it¡¯s hard to talk people down when you¡¯re a yellow blob without a face carrying a gun. But you don¡¯t have that problem. You could handle the fungal spores just fine. That means you can be our face, show we¡¯re not hostile, and help us get to the bottom of this. The mission is information gathering and, possibly, infiltrating the cult.¡± I think about it. Nothing about this sounds good. The best way to handle it would be to have Doctor Twitchy open up a merge portal and let me clear it out. But when I suggest that, Rodriguez shakes her head. ¡°Not this time. We believe this was an instantaneous merge. It dumped its anomalies into R-0 and disconnected. We¡¯ve got to clean it up, though.¡± ¡°Alright. But tomorrow, I¡¯m having lunch with my sister. James, put that on everyone¡¯s schedule.¡± I¡¯m not happy about this. Alice needs the routine, and SHOCKS keeps getting in the way. ¡°And contact Doctor Twitchy. I want to meet with him about her later today.¡± [Got it.] Sometimes, James is the best personal assistant. ¡°Great. Strauss will be your bodyguard and handler,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°We¡¯re leaving in ten. Suit up.¡±
The armored truck roars down Highway Fourteen toward Sooke, and I stare at the four troopers in their hazmat gear. Sure enough, they barely look human, and even though Strauss is sitting across from me, I can¡¯t see his face through the hood-and-helmet combination. He looks a lot bigger than he did back at Aberdeen Hospital. According to James, Aberdeen¡¯s fine for now, but I¡¯m not sure I can believe him. The fire-metal monster¡¯s out there somewhere, and that¡¯s what we should be dealing with. Instead, we¡¯re heading into Sooke. It¡¯s hard to read the other troopers, but no one looks happy to be here. ¡°James, what¡¯s a disease cult?¡± I ask. [Standard disease cults pop up in places where an anomalous illness isn¡¯t entirely detrimental. In this case, we¡¯re looking at something that initially appears to follow a typical flu-into-bronchitis pattern. Once established in the lungs, it moves into the bloodstream, causing infections across the patient¡¯s muscular system and penetrating the blood/brain barrier. We¡¯re not sure what it¡¯s doing once it¡¯s there, but it¡¯s definitely influencing the victims¡¯ thinking toward spreading the disease.] ¡°So, like the memes?¡± [No. That was a full mental override. It took a few rounds of amnestics to clear it out of Lieutenant Rodriguez¡¯s system. This is usually more low-key. Expect people to be mostly normal. Mostly. Enhanced strength, speed, and so on. Hacking wet coughs and sneezes. Nothing too wild, at least so far. Strauss has training on what crosses the line with the Sooke strain, and he¡¯ll be there to keep you safe.] I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll need Strauss to keep me safe, but it¡¯s good to have backup. I nod. ¡°Thanks.¡± [I¡¯m dedicating a few extra processing loops to you for the mission. If something goes wrong, I¡¯ll know before anyone else,] James says. ¡°Thanks,¡± I say again. Then I turn to Strauss. ¡°What¡¯s the rest of Lambda-Four going to be doing?¡± ¡°They¡¯re running infiltration and information-gathering, just like us. But unlike us, they¡¯re going to be a lot less visible. Between us talking to people and them hunting for the cult more clandestinely, we should be able to get this figured out today,¡± Strauss says. His voice sounds muffled and staticky. He shivers. ¡°Medical shit again.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not thrilled about it either.¡± That¡¯s the truth. A few minutes later, the truck stops, the ramp drops, and Rodriguez and the other two troopers¡ªfuck, I still don¡¯t know who they are¡ªdisappear toward a gate. A few other troopers in similar suits stand guard next to a repaired section of the plastic barrier blocking the town off, but Strauss doesn¡¯t lead me over there. Instead, we head straight to a plastic tunnel, where a woman¡ªI think¡ªpunches a code into a door. It slides open. ¡°L4-3,¡± someone says. I turn, eyes narrowing, but the big man in the bio-suit continues. ¡°Ramirez says you¡¯re our best shot at getting this under control. I hope so. My team¡¯s needed elsewhere.¡± I ignore him. He¡¯s got to be in charge of Lambda-Five. But Strauss sticks out his hand, and they shake. The Lambda-Five lieutenant continues. ¡°Your job¡¯s pretty simple. You and Strauss are going to be as obvious as possible. No stealth mission or anything like that. Talk to people, knock on doors, do whatever you need to do. The rest of Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five will move to the Prestige Building. We think that¡¯s where the cult¡¯s centered. Meet us there when you can, but don¡¯t rush.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Got it,¡± Strauss says. I nod, and the lieutenant waves us down the plastic tunnel. We emerge into what looks like a totally normal Vancouver Island town. It reminds me a lot of Ucluelet. Maybe a little bigger, but the towers and multi-story apartment complexes that dot Victoria are nowhere to be found here. Instead, there are a few stoplights, a bunch of small houses, and what looks like endless, nearly perfect beachfront. And trees. So many trees. Sometimes, I forget how many of them there are once you leave the city. They even cover the spit sticking out across the harbor¡¯s mouth in the distance. Strauss points at a single-story apartment building on the edge of town. ¡°Check in there,¡± he says. I nod and knock on the run-down door, then open it. It¡¯s an office space. That¡¯s my first impression, at least. Then I see the dozen mailboxes, and the washing machines off to the side, and I reevaluate. We¡¯ve got a similar space in the basic living building. I ring the bell on the counter, the familiar smell of cigarette ashes tickling my nose. I wish I still had mine. Nothing happens, so I give it another ring. When nothing happens again, I shrug. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the quarantine?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Strauss says, moving his shoulders a little. ¡°Let¡¯s give it a minute. L-4, L-5, interview team is stopped at the Beachfront Apartments complex. We¡¯ll give it five, then move on.¡± ¡°Copy,¡± Rodriguez¡¯s voice comes in through my aug. The seconds tick by, and after a minute, an older woman¡ªolder than Dad, at least¡ªcomes in through the back door. She¡¯s tucking something into her purse, and I catch the familiar logo. It¡¯s a pack of cigarettes. ¡°Hi,¡± I say, following the script James pulled up for me. It¡¯s a bad script, but with the gear I¡¯m wearing, it¡¯s plausible, especially if we talk to sick people who aren¡¯t at their peak mentally. Besides, it¡¯s not like I have some magical authority to tell the people of Sooke what to do, so lying is our best bet. ¡°I¡¯m with the Public Health Agency. We¡¯re investigating reports that the influenza outbreak in Sooke may be mutating. If it¡¯s not too much trouble, we¡¯d like to interview you about the disease. Everything we hear will remain anonymous. We don¡¯t even need your name.¡± ¡°What are you, like thirteen?¡± the woman asks. She sits behind the desk in the beat-up office chair, and I try not to wince. This was never going to work. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Strauss says, shifting slightly so she can see his handgun, ¡°my partner¡¯s fully registered as a nurse with the Public Health Agency. It¡¯s in your best interests to cooperate.¡± I guess we¡¯re running good cop/bad cop? I nod. ¡°And why aren¡¯t you suited up?¡± ¡°I had this last week,¡± I lie. In truth, my Toxin Resistance feels like it¡¯s working overtime. ¡°According to our studies, I should be immune.¡± ¡°No,¡± the woman says, sighing and reaching for another cigarette. ¡°This all feels like bullshit to me.¡± I start to argue, but Strauss interrupts from inside his suit. ¡°Alright, Ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll be back if our supervisor says we need your input. Have a good day.¡± He heads for the door, and I follow him. The second it closes behind us, I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Why¡¯d we bail out?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Strauss says, flicking his head back over his shoulder. [That plan won¡¯t work,] James replies as well. [You¡¯re too young-looking, even in full gear. It immediately set off her suspicions, and we were playing catch-up the whole time. We¡¯ll need to adjust for next time. Working on a new script.
¡°She tripped all my suit¡¯s scanners. Part of the cult,¡± Strauss says a minute or two later. We¡¯ve been walking down Highway 14 while he chats with the rest of Lambda-Four and I get tactical updates from James. ¡°We¡¯ve also got reports that the woman made several phone calls right after we left. According to Command, we need to assume¡ª¡° ¡°That they know we¡¯re not Public Health,¡± I finish. In retrospect, it¡¯s pretty obvious; that ploy was never going to work. It was too much of a stretch. Maybe if I¡¯d been Alice¡­no. If I¡¯d been Alice, one of her masks would have sold it for sure. But not me. ¡°James has me patched into Command.¡± ¡°Great. Let¡¯s move,¡± Strauss says. He doesn¡¯t seem annoyed that the plan failed. ¡°That woman had us made the second she stepped back into the office, not when you started talking. I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s in the middle stages of infection. Ideally, we¡¯d amnestitize the whole area, carpet-bomb style, then force antibiotics into everyone until we got control, but Command¡¯s worried about a breach if we try that.¡± We pass a military surplus store as we head for the Prestige Building. That¡¯s where we¡¯re supposed to meet up with the rest of Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five¡ªassuming they¡¯re stealthy enough to get there. But we haven¡¯t gone a hundred yards before we meet our first¡ªwell, second¡ªcultist. This one¡¯s face looks like he¡¯s homeless. That in itself is weird; no one in Victoria¡¯s homeless unless they choose to be. But his clothes don¡¯t match the role, other than that they¡¯re filthy. He¡¯s wearing a thick winter coat¡ªthe kind with puffed-up pockets filled with feathers that Dad couldn¡¯t ever afford for us¡ªand a beanie. That¡¯s weird, too. It¡¯s early June, and yeah, it¡¯s early, but my hoodie¡¯s already pushing too warm. Strauss takes a step toward him, holding up a hand. ¡°Sir, Public Health. Could we have a word?¡± A second later, the man rushes Strauss, who calmly draws his handgun and fires a shot. It catches the guy in the chest, and he goes down. ¡°Cover me,¡± Strauss says and slides next to the downed man. I¡¯ve got enough Urban Combat levels to know what Strauss wants. As he checks the man and recovers his stun shot, my head and Revolver rotate between all the buildings around us. This equation¡¯s a mess, and the messages coming in from Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five aren¡¯t any better. One variable is the plague cult itself. Where are they? How many of them are there? What¡¯s their actual plan? And, of course, what¡¯s the plague, really? I don¡¯t know any answers to that one. Then there¡¯s SHOCKS. How trigger-happy are they? Strauss didn¡¯t hesitate at all. He put that stun shot into his attacker with zero warning. And what will Doctor Twitchy be willing to do to contain this anomaly? I don¡¯t know the answers to those questions either, and that scares me. ¡°L4, Command. L5-3 and L5-4 have discovered new intel,¡± the patched-in Command feed says in my ear. ¡°Go ahead,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says. ¡°There¡¯s a possibility of an active merge area hidden somewhere in Sooke, likely in the Prestige Building. Lambda-Five cannot withdraw at this time, so your mission has changed from reconnaissance and information. Your new orders are to get L4-3 to the merge, get her inside of it, and regroup with Lambda-Five. SHOCKS Headquarters will retrieve her once she¡¯s shut down the merge. Once both teams are together, pull back toward the quarantine line. Agents will be waiting to cover you.¡± ¡°Rules of engagement?¡± Rodriguez asks. There¡¯s a pause, and then Doctor Twitchy¡¯s voice cuts in. ¡°Lethal force is authorized to defend yourselves or complete the new primary missions.¡± ¡°Copy.¡± [I¡¯m pulling up what information we have,] James says. I¡¯m only half-listening. My equation¡¯s shot. Completely useless. Strauss steps away from the unconscious man in the middle of Highway Fourteen, grabs my shoulder, and pulls me toward a building on the left side of the road. It¡¯s a convenience store. As the door closes, I look back. The man¡¯s jacket¡¯s open, and his chest and stomach both look deformed and twisted, with tumors that look a lot like the devoured, if I squint right. But this can¡¯t be the same reality. It¡¯s not. I solved that reality. The door shuts behind us, and Strauss reloads his gun. ¡°Going lethal. Based on what I saw, I¡¯m guessing they¡¯re not any stronger than a normal person, but they¡¯ll probably ignore shots.¡± ¡°What were those?¡± I ask. ¡°Probably extra organs. That¡¯s a common mutation in anomalous disease cults.¡± Strauss heads for the convenience store¡¯s staff room, shoots the door handle, and levels his gun chest-high. ¡°We¡¯re cutting through here. The Prestige is a few blocks south. Time to see what you¡¯ve got, L4-3.¡± I take a deep breath and switch the Revolver from cold gravity shots to the warm, orange fire beam ones. Then Strauss opens the door, and I start clearing the room. Check the corners. Square room. Behind cover? Not much¡ªa couple of folding chairs and a low couch. Nothing. Other entrances? A steel door, probably to the back. The check only lasts about three seconds. ¡°It¡¯s clear,¡± I say. ¡°Okay. Keep moving.¡± He points at the steel door, and I open it. A half-second later, one of Sooke¡¯s citizens rushes me with a rusty-looking axe. Strauss puts three rounds into her, and she hits the ground¡ªand pops like a balloon. Stinking, disgusting air gushes out of her instead of blood, and Strauss backpedals. ¡°Contact!¡± I breathe it in before I can get away. It burns and stinks, but other than that, I don¡¯t feel any worse. [Skill Learned: Toxin Resistance 4] [That¡¯s interesting,] James says. He sounds detached, like he¡¯s dealing with other stuff¡ªprobably because he is. [Disease isn¡¯t technically toxic. Shouldn¡¯t that be a different skill?] ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± My stomach¡¯s churning; resistant or not, it stinks. And what¡¯s happened to this woman? That¡¯s just not right. Her whole body¡¯s empty inside. ¡°Were any of the cultists who got past the barrier last night¡­like this?¡± [No. They all appeared more like the guy Strauss stunned.] ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡± Strauss cuts the corner with his gun, then heads down the alley toward a fancy-looking building next to the shoreline. I take one more look at the woman. She¡¯s starting to decay way quicker than she should be. James doesn¡¯t have any information yet, though, and after a second to get our spacing right, I follow Strauss.
Shots echo off the Prestige Building¡¯s fancy-pants facade. Sora would probably be able to tell me the style and everything, but I only know that it wasn¡¯t built this century. It¡¯s all white marble pillars and decorations, perfectly manicured grass, and trimmed hedges. Even the glass walls in front of us surrounding the indoor pool look old. Strauss shoots the glass twice, and it falls apart. ¡°Move!¡± We rush the glass. Someone charges toward me. When I shoot him, he bursts into flame as the disgusting gas inside him ignites. ¡°James, do you have a location yet?¡± [Negative. Working on it,] James says. ¡°Lambda-Four, Lambda-Five, treat all contacts as already deceased,¡± Command says. ¡°Rules of Engagement are fully free.¡± ¡°About time.¡± Rodriguez sounds like she¡¯s hurting. Hopefully, her suit¡¯s okay. Hopefully, she won¡¯t turn into one of these things. Most of them aren¡¯t even people, really, they¡¯re so hollowed out. They¡¯re just gas bags. The pool¡¯s a big, square thing. It¡¯s empty, except for a layer of slime at the bottom. Strauss starts moving toward the hotel¡¯s hallways, but I stop him. ¡°Hang on. Something¡¯s weird here.¡± He stops. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Cover me,¡± I say. Then I drop down into the pool. My feet slip on the reeking goop, and I have to hold my breath as my stomach rolls and bile fills my throat. But something about the pool¡¯s not right. It¡¯s not right at all. ¡°L4-5, we have multiple cultists inbound,¡± Command says. ¡°Lambda-Five is trying to intercept, but they¡¯re not in position. Be ready.¡± ¡°Copy.¡± Strauss glances at the door. ¡°L4-3, be quick. It¡¯s about to get busy here.¡± I ignore him. The pool¡¯s a lie. It has to be. The goop¡¯s disgusting; I can¡¯t tell what it is, but it stinks like the inside of the woman Strauss shot. But under it¡­is something. I can tell because of the ringing in my ears, and under the reeking, diseased smell, the scent of lupines. The truth¡¯s hidden in the slime pit, and the truth is that the merge is right here, in front of me. I take a deep breath; the goop¡¯s deeper¡ªand grosser¡ªon the far side of the pool. That¡¯s got to be where it is. Before Strauss can stop me, I take a deep breath that burns like cleaning supplies and smoke and vomit all at once. Then I dive into the stinking mass. [Skill Learned: Toxin Resistance 5] It¡¯s bad. Really bad. It¡¯s probably the worst thing I¡¯ve ever done. But even as it covers me, and the cold, slimy goop gets between my fingers and toes and in my nose, the ringing gets louder. My hand brushes against something familiar and Jell-O-like, and I use Mergewalk. Chapter Forty-Eight The sickest I¡¯ve been was in fourth grade. Mr. Clyde sent me home. Of course, Dad couldn¡¯t come pick me up¡ªwe didn¡¯t have a car, and he couldn¡¯t have found the keys even if we did. Even so, it was pretty obvious that I had chicken pox, and I couldn¡¯t be at school. What? A lot of kids get them. And they¡¯re miserable. The worst part was Alice. She couldn¡¯t stay in the same room as me for fear she¡¯d get them, too, so she had to crash on the living room floor for a week. She was late to school four times. But that¡¯s how we learned that public buses will pick up kids even if they can¡¯t afford to pay. Alice got the chicken pox on the sixth day.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The first thing I notice is the smell. The second is the wave of vomit. This morning¡¯s yogurt and toast ends up on the ground. So does the orange juice. It takes a minute for me to recover, spitting bile and saliva. My head¡¯s spinning. ¡°James, can you do something about this?¡± [No. We don¡¯t have olfactory augs, and if we did, this would be outmatching them,] James says. [I¡¯m rating this reality mid-Xuduo-Danger for the smell alone.] I¡¯m tempted to agree. The scent of lupine is so strong it¡¯s a stench, and it¡¯s mixed with that stink you get from someone who¡¯s slowly rotting away while still alive. Gangrene? Is that what it¡¯s called? Or maybe it¡¯s a cancer smell. Either way, the flower and the rot is a bad combo, and that¡¯s why breakfast is all over the¡­floor. I finally look around and reevaluate my situation. This is definitely at least mid-Xuduo-Danger. Probably high-Xuduo, in fact. The ¡®walls¡¯ curve down to the floor, which squishes slightly under my feet. It¡¯s all pinkish-brownish, and the wind moving slowly through it is warm. When I was in fourth grade, one of our topics of study was the human body. I don¡¯t remember much about it. Anatomy was never my thing, but I remember an ancient TV show Mr. Clyde showed us. A teacher with curly orange hair shrunk her school bus down to pill-size¡ªor smaller¡ªand drove it into one of the students¡¯ mouths to explore the human body. It was super gross. I¡¯m hoping¡ªreally hoping¡ªthat I¡¯m not in a human body right now. But for sure, I¡¯m in a body. [Skill Learned: Toxin Resistance 6] Alright. So. Inside something. That¡¯s gross. Not as gross as what I dove through to get here, but it¡¯s definitely gross. ¡°Ideas?¡± [SHOCKS is requesting that I patch them into your aural and optical augs. They want a direct line of communication with you, and you¡¯re currently helmetless. Director Ramirez claims it¡¯s for exploration and research purposes. I haven¡¯t responded.] ¡°Okay¡­¡± I pause to think. On the one hand, Doctor Twitchy¡¯s been annoying every time I¡¯ve Mergewalked. On the other, I have no idea how to proceed from here, and James isn¡¯t giving me much to go on, either. This isn¡¯t a prepped Mergewalk like the last four, either, and everything about it is unknown. The equation has too many variables, but bringing help to solve them might make them more manageable. ¡°Link me to him.¡± My aural aug pops quietly, and a second later, Doctor Twitchy¡¯s voice cuts in. ¡°Claire, Strauss says you disappeared. Are you in Provisional Reality AAG?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I say, starting down the fleshy pink hallway. ¡°Okay. Copy that. Uh, we¡¯re working on creating a link to R-AAG. We¡¯ll keep you updated. In the meantime, Command is operating both Lambda-Four and Five, and I¡¯ll be working with you. I¡¯ve got your feeds up. This isn¡¯t¡­the worst thing I¡¯ve seen. Right now, we¡¯re withdrawing the RSTs. Try to search for a cause for this merge.¡± I ignore him¡ªI¡¯ve done four Mergewalks for SHOCKS, so I know what I¡¯m supposed to do. James is building a map just like he did when Strauss and I were in the maze reality. I¡¯ve got the Revolver out and ready in case some intestinal parasite jumps me. And Doctor Twitchy isn¡¯t doing anything useful other than blabbering about where the hell I am. That leaves me with exploring and recording what I see and hear. I walk for almost an hour, but not much changes. At least the ringing in my ears has stopped, though. So¡­let¡¯s see. The equation¡¯s coming together. I don¡¯t have a full picture, but the path I¡¯m on seems to angle upward slightly. I¡¯m filling in all the variables as if this reality¡¯s a single living thing. That¡¯s just intuition; I have no proof, but it makes sense. It¡¯s too big to be anything else. But the worst part about this gigantic thing is that there¡¯s not a single clue about what happened or why this reality¡¯s leaking into ours. No evidence, just pinkish-red flesh that squishes under my feet. James has been flickering my augs between heat vision, regular vision, and sonar maps, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but that¡¯s pointless when there¡¯s no control to measure the variables against. There¡¯s nothing to fight. There¡¯s hardly even a danger except for the acid-filled pools in the disgustingly wobbly floor. It¡¯s almost¡­boring. Okay. This reality¡¯s one gigantic living thing. If we assume that, I still can¡¯t solve this math, but I can get closer. I need to find its brain. I need to keep going up. It takes Doctor Twitchy a couple of minutes to realize something¡¯s changed, but once he does, his voice gets much more animated. ¡°Claire, report in. What are you doing?¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretending the whole reality¡¯s alive and sick. If I can find what¡¯s wrong, we can try to fix it,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s like the cartoons of living pills going in to fight a disease. Right now, I¡¯m heading toward where I hope its brain is. Once I get there, I¡¯ll¡­¡± The truth is, I don¡¯t have an answer to what I¡¯ll do once I get there. Maybe it¡¯ll be like a computer, and I¡¯ll be able to figure out how it works. That¡¯s what happened in the God in the Machine¡¯s reality, so maybe it¡¯ll work here. Besides, Mr. Clyde said that brains were like organic computers, didn¡¯t he? ¡°Copy that. Continue on, report anything unusual,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°Har har.¡± It¡¯s all unusual. The smell¡¯s not as bad up. If anything, it¡¯s worse. The ¡®normal¡¯ gassy digestive acid smell fades, but the lupine-and-rot smell grows stronger as it does. The pinkish ground, if you can call it that, has turned bright red; in some places, the red¡¯s even giving way to black. [Something¡¯s wrong with this reality,] James says unnecessarily. I don¡¯t bother nodding. Some truths are self-evident. I just keep walking.
The wound itself is beyond description. But my brain tries to describe it anyway. It¡¯s big. Really big. The tunnel I¡¯ve been walking through just¡­stops in a sheer drop-off. Far below, the ground¡¯s scabbed over; whatever happened happened a while ago. But the infected-looking sections are everywhere. I think I can see it on the other side of the black and red canyon, but I could be wrong. It¡¯s got to be a half-mile away. And the smell of rot¡¯s so thick in the air, I can see it. The canyon¡¯s deep, but mostly, it¡¯s just wide. Even so, I hesitate, zooming in my optic aug and enjoying it not heating up as I magnify the¡ª [Bloatworms] ¡ªBloatworms down below. They¡¯re big, too. They¡¯re probably the size of the bus Alice and I used to take to West End. And so far, at least, they¡¯re slow. I watch one of the whitish grubs crawl over a patch of the blackest flesh. When it passes, most of the black¡¯s gone. I pan my vision up the cliff on the far side toward the tunnel. For a moment, it looks familiar, but I can¡¯t quite place it. The ringing in my ear returns, then fades. ¡°We need to get over there,¡± I say. [Well, you don¡¯t have anything that can help you fly, so your best bet¡¯s climbing down, then climbing back up,] James says.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Sometimes, James is the best personal assistant. And sometimes, he¡¯s a sarcastic know-it-all. I roll my eyes and work my way down the wound¡¯s side. It¡¯s a rough climb through some of the blackest, most foul-smelling sections of the cliff wall, but at least it¡¯s not long. [Skill Learned: Endurance 7] The moment my feet hit the wound¡¯s floor, the Bloatworms turn toward me¡ªall of them. I draw my Revolver as they rush toward me in a rumbling wave, like the tide coming in. The first one charges in. Its ¡®face¡¯ turns toward me, but there¡¯s nothing face-like to it. Just a long sucker¡ªproboscis? It slurps at the rot covering the ground. My Revolver fires once. The flame spikes into the Bloatworm, and it detonates. The whole worm explodes, guts and rot and fetid, stinking air all lighting up in a fireball that lights up the entire wound. The smell¡¯s an unholy mix of the hot dog cookoff at Landsdowne Middle School, a hospital, and the garbage when I forget to take it out. And, of course, lupines. Then the shockwave slams me into the wall, my vision goes dark and pinholes, and I use Smoke Form to get control back. The shockwave passes as I solidify again a few feet from where I was. My heart¡¯s pounding. That was amazing. It was also a lot like the woman I shot in Sooke. She blew up, too. That¡¯s¡­less amazing. ¡°Ramirez, you get that?¡± I ask. There¡¯s static for a second, then he replies. ¡°Yes. Sending it to the analytics team now.¡± I don¡¯t have time to reply. The next Bloatworms are closing in. I flip the Revolver toward the first one, but it¡¯s too late. It¡¯s too close. If I don¡¯t move, they¡¯ll hem me in. I look left. Right. There¡¯s already no way out. I can¡¯t be trapped. The closest Bloatworm surges forward, proboscis only a foot or two away from me, when I realize I can¡¯t be trapped. Using Smoke Form and Slither together hurts. My brain doesn¡¯t want to go through things. But getting crushed by a ten-ton Bloatworm would probably hurt worse. I turn to smoke, then jaunt myself through the gigantic monster. [Stability 4/10] As it crashes down on me, I backpedal. My heart¡¯s pounding, and the ringing in my ears is even worse now. Is there another merge in this reality, too? No. I¡¯m distracting myself. The new closest worm starts turning, but they¡¯re so slow. Two more steps back. Bullet Time. Three shots, three Bloatworms, one on either flank and one in the middle. The world moves again, and all three shots hit. I¡¯m already Smoke Formed this time. The explosions cascade through the Bloatworms. Smoke Form stops, and they¡¯re still blowing up. The air¡¯s thick with chunks of worm, infection, and heavy green smoke. I close my eyes and wait for it to be over, trying not to breath too much of it. [Stability 3/10] [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 15] [New Ammunition: Reality Skippers] [Skill Learned: Toxin Resistance 6] When the fire and pressure stop, my face and hands hurt like they¡¯ve been sunburned. I ready the Revolver, but I can¡¯t see into the cloud. I squint behind my glasses and creep closer, trying to catch a glimpse. A wall of white-colored flash crashes out of the green smoke and crushes me under it. It¡¯s like being hit by a bus. Something pops in my hip, and my shoulder¡¯s on fire all of a sudden. I bite back a scream, though; the Bloatworm¡¯s right up against me, and I¡¯ll probably get a mouthful of maggot if I open it. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 8] My first thought is to pull the trigger. I¡¯ve got a couple of shots left. That¡¯d get me out of here. But I¡¯m not sure about surviving the fireball from under it. Either way, it hurts, and I need to do something. I wince¡ªI don¡¯t have a ton of Stability left¡ªand use the Smoke Form/Slither combo. [Stability 2/10] This time, as I travel through the Bloatworm, I get a good look at what¡¯s inside of it. There are organs, of course, but most of the ribbed, caterpillar-like body is hollow¡ªjust one big gas bag. That¡¯s got to be what¡¯s doing the exploding. ¡°Claire, your aug¡¯s feed cut off for a second,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I ignore him. Instead, I start running. Once I think I¡¯m far enough away, I fire another shot, and the Bloatworm dies.
My stomach won¡¯t stop churning. I¡¯ve spent the last five minutes recording what¡¯s left of the Bloatworms¡ªor, as Doctor Twitchy¡¯s calling them, R-AAG-P1s or whatever. I¡¯m not thrilled about it. Around every single charred and split corpse is a black circle. They¡¯re not explosions. They¡¯re infections, and they¡¯re growing even as I pan my aug over them. ¡°That¡¯s enough. I¡¯m moving,¡± I say the second I¡¯ve shown him the last worm. The wound¡¯s far side¡¯s a lot steeper than the one I came down, and I have my work cut out for me. The cliff¡¯s squishy under my boots. I¡¯m glad I can¡¯t see my face because I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯m absolutely filthy. A quick glance at my hoodie, leggings, and SHOCKS-approved body armor confirms that. This is probably worse than the time the shower backed up. Probably. I¡¯m only about twenty feet up when another Bloatworm starts crawling across the wound. It hits one of the rings around the dead monsters and slows down as its proboscis works back and forth, cleaning the blackened flesh until it¡¯s merely a bright red. [Analyzing. Simulation complete,] James says. [It will ignore you unless you¡¯re on the same surface it is.] ¡°Couldn¡¯t have done that earlier?¡± I complain. My foot pushes off a bone fragment, and I wrap my hands around¡­something¡­and keep pulling myself up. [No. With something this new, the Analysis requires information. These are brand new. I¡¯m rating them mid-Geren-Danger. Their size makes them a threat, but your Revolver countered them pretty hard, to put it in Knights of the Apocalypse terms. If this is the worst thing you find here, we should be okay.] I shake my head and keep climbing. ¡°There¡¯s something worse. I¡¯m not sure what, but I saw it before we climbed down.¡± James rewinds my aug in a picture-in-picture view. Then he hits play, watches, and zooms in over and over until the image is nothing but a couple of pixels. He doesn¡¯t say anything for a minute. Then, as I reach the tunnel I¡¯d been following, he does. [I sent the image to Director Ramirez. SHOCKS might be able to get some information from it.] ¡°I¡¯d rather he work on how to get me out of here,¡± I grumble. Doctor Twitchy speaks up. ¡°We are. The merge generator¡¯s being calibrated to enter that reality. It should work out okay. We¡¯re trying to aim it to be relatively close to your location, but it¡¯ll be a few minutes, and we don¡¯t want to pull you out until you¡¯ve figured out how to close the other merge points.¡± ¡°Points?¡± I ask, stretching my burning arms and legs. [Los Angeles, Tokyo, and Vladivostok all have similar disease outbreaks,] James says. [Beirut and Kyiv might as well.] ¡°Is this worldwide, then?¡± I ask. [No. Australia, New Zealand, and a few other Pacific Islands are holding out. So are the Falklands and the southern tip of Argentina.] I don¡¯t say anything. There¡¯s not much to say. Merge Prime¡¯s almost done with¡­whatever it¡¯s trying to do, and I¡¯m stuck in some other reality instead of with Alice and Sora. My stomach won¡¯t stop churning, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the smell this time. ¡°Claire. L4-3. Respond.¡± Doctor Twitchy sounds stressed. I look down the tunnel; how long have I been staring off into space? Probably too long. I¡¯d love to be with Sora right now. Hell, I¡¯d even settle for Alice or Dad. But the best thing I can do is keep moving, so I do. And as I do, the ringing in my ears stops. And a voiceless song starts. I freeze. ¡°Uh, James?¡± [Yeah, I got it, too. Report it in,] James says. ¡°Doctor Twitchy,¡± I say, not bothering to cover my nickname for him, ¡°I¡¯m picking up a similar song to what I heard in Reality 1421. It¡¯s either going to be another black merge or an angel.¡± ¡°Copy that. Keep moving forward, but be careful. We¡¯re firing up the merge generator now. The JAMES Unit is providing targeting information. We¡¯ll also¡­we¡¯ll also set up another Faraday Cage around it, so be ready for that.¡± ¡°Great.¡± I pause, thinking. ¡°And get a clean-up crew there, as well.¡± For a second, Doctor Twitchy sounds like he¡¯s holding back a laugh. ¡°We¡¯ve had one ready since we started getting your aug footage. Everyone in the Experimental Sector¡¯s in full hazmat gear as well.¡± That¡¯s a relief, even if I¡¯m pretty sure the scrubbing I¡¯m in for will rub me raw. I open up the Revolver and slot in the new cylinder. This one feels heavy one second, then weightless the next, and the gun¡¯s barrel won¡¯t stop bobbing up and down, but if it¡¯s an angel, fire didn¡¯t hurt it last time. The tunnel curves up and to the left, much sharper than it did before. As I keep moving, the song gets louder and more insistent, and I can¡¯t keep it out of my head. I ready the Revolver and go around the corner. It¡¯s a wide chamber; the walls beat almost like there¡¯s blood moving through them. Part of the floor¡¯s missing, and when I glance at it, I can see all the way down to the bottom of the wound. But the angel in the middle of the room captures almost all my attention. Just like the one in R-1421, this one¡¯s a completely quiet hole in space. It hangs in the middle of the room, angular wings up like it¡¯s mid-dive. It doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s looking at me, and black infection drips down from its void shape. I level the Revolver and aim it at the angel. James clicks through filters until my augs start helping my Infohazard Resistance. And I pull the trigger, emptying the cylinder completely. The gun doesn¡¯t make a sound. The yellowish shells just¡­vanish before they¡¯ve even left the barrel. Everything stops except the angel. The song crashes against me, and my Stability crashes.
The world¡¯s on fire, but it¡¯s not hot. The air¡¯s full of screams, but it¡¯s pin-drop quiet. As reality falls apart around me, I lose sight of the angel in the song it¡¯s surrounded me with. Whatever the R-1421 angel was, this one¡¯s much more powerful. My Infohazard Resistance can¡¯t stop it. My augs¡¯ filters buy me a quarter second. Then, the song takes over. Realities burn. Everything from pinpick universes to expanses I¡¯ve never thought could exist. It all succumbs to the flames. Familiar places¡ªthe God in the Machine¡¯s reality, or the maze world¡ªdisappear. Part of me is horrified to watch. The other part¡¯s fascinated. But mostly, I¡¯m scared. The angel¡¯s stronger than anything I¡¯ve seen before. It dwarfs Li Mei or the Stag Lord, and I struggled with both of them. Maybe a Fungal Lord? No. Not even one of those would stand a chance. I try to connect to James, but he¡¯s silent. I try to raise my Revolver, but it¡¯s not there. And all around me, realities go dark and silent except for a voiceless song. It goes on and on. It only lasts a second. And something outside of the song snaps. My Stability. [Stability 0/10] I lash out with the only thing I have left. Soundbreak triggers, a counterpoint that mutes the voiceless singer¡¯s song and punches into the void. The vision breaks, and everything happens all at once. Suddenly, the world¡¯s moving again. Something pushes through a brand-new merge in the half-second it¡¯s open, dropping into the room on the angel¡¯s far side. Six tiny merges open all around the angel, and six bullets hit it, punching holes in its soundless void. It screams. The sound feels like being run over by a steamroller, and it¡¯s not even directed at me. I Slither away from it. The angel turns¡ªI can tell even though it¡¯s nothing but a featureless void¡ªand rips into the hulking mass of tentacles and reptilian frame that just entered this reality. I reach for a different cylinder, my stomach dropping. I can¡¯t fight either of these things. Another merge opens right next to me. James yells something in my ear. Doctor Twitchy yells something, too. I don¡¯t hear either of them; I¡¯m too busy jumping through the Jell-O. Chapter Forty-Nine SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 8, 2043, 3:26 PM - - - - - The second he saw Claire hit the ground on the R-0 side of his merge generator, Director Ramirez pushed the detonator on Strauss¡¯s second prototype merge-breaker. The unholy mix of URAs, explosives, M-37 siphons, and electronics he¡¯d added went off. His hair stood on end in his hazmat suit, and gravity went sideways for a second before R-0¡¯s laws of physics reasserted themselves. Electricity filled the room as the Faraday Cage activated. Sparks flew from every control panel for a second. The portal flickered, then went out. A moment later, the smell hit Ramirez even through his filters. He gagged, then vomited into his respirator. ¡°Clean up, get in there,¡± he managed to choke out in the space between one stomach convulsion and the next. Then, as emergency biohazard alarms went off, he fled the room, along with everyone not in a Class Four bio-suit. Wherever that girl had been, Paul wanted nothing to do with it. Ever.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 8, 2043, 4:42 PM - - - - - I¡¯ll never be clean again. Ever. They had to evacuate the JAMES Experimental Sector. Right now, they¡¯re scrubbing its air on a separate circuit from the rest of SHOCKS, trying to make it habitable again. As for me? I¡¯ve been pronounced a biological weapon¡ªprobably something that violates the Geneva Convention. They scrubbed me clean-ish¡ªenough to get me to a locker room they¡¯d cleared and sealed off specifically for me. Then, SHOCKS brought me new clothes while I showered. I doubt I¡¯ll see my old ones again¡ªgoodbye and good riddance. I¡¯m still in the locker room¡¯s shower, trying to get clean. I¡¯ve scrubbed my armpits raw, but the stink¡¯s still there. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s debriefing with me will have to wait until I¡¯m done, but this smell¡¯s almost impossible to get rid of. I give my hair another round of the industrial-strength shampoo, rinse it out, and hope for the best as I finally shut off the water. The reality on the ground¡ªso to speak¡ªis that presentable or not, I saw something that SHOCKS needs to know about. They¡¯re the bogeymen, yes. And I don¡¯t trust them at all. But they¡¯ve been helpful, and they¡¯ll keep being helpful as long as Merge Prime¡¯s a threat. SHOCKS and I will be best friends for a while, just like Li Mei and me. Plus, if they knew what I¡¯d seen in my vision, they¡¯d be talking to me right now¡ªstink or not. A sweatshirt and leggings await me, as well as a SHOCKS agent who clears her throat as I finish. ¡°If you¡¯re ready, Director Ramirez would like to debrief,¡± she reminds me, as if I don¡¯t already know. I follow her through the maze of hallways toward the office side of SHOCKS Headquarters and push through the door into the office. Last time, Lieutenant Rodriguez was here. This time, it¡¯s just Doctor Twitchy, his computer, and, surprisingly, a picture of a boy on the monitor. I¡¯ve only seen him once before, and he looks a lot different than the last time, but I recognize him instantly. ¡°Hello, James.¡± [Hi.] ¡°Hello, Claire,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°The JAMES Unit insists on sitting in on our conversation more¡­directly. I¡¯m not in a position to reject its presence, and even if I did, that would be a formality¡ªit has access to everything we do here. We¡¯re here to discuss today¡¯s mission.¡± ¡°Great. James, what time am I supposed to eat with Alice?¡± [Alice and your father are going to dinner in an hour and a half. The cafeteria will be relatively empty around that time.] ¡°Thanks.¡± I¡¯m not thankful. How did Dad get involved in this? That¡¯s going to complicate everything. I turn to Doctor Twitchy. ¡°You have an hour.¡± [Your sister told him earlier today. I had nothing to do with it,] James says. He gets it. I¡¯m not sure why he does, but he does. In contrast to the pale, hairless ghost from the JAMES Experimental Sector, this one¡¯s got a ghost of a smile on his tanned skin. He¡¯s wearing a skull T-shirt and black sweatbands on his arms, and his dark brown hair¡¯s swooshed over one eye. I look away. ¡°One hour. Understood,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°That should be plenty of time to cover the basics.¡± He clears his throat and presses a button on his computer. ¡°Interview with L4-3, Specialist Claire Pendleton. The time is 1653, June 8, 2043. Interview conducted SHOCKS Headquarters Victoria and Vancouver Island. ¡°First, Recovery and Stabilization Teams Lambda-Four and Five are clear. They reached the edge of the quarantine zone shortly before you returned through the generated merge. There were a few injuries, but nothing serious. However, the merge in Sooke was not shut when we triggered Strauss¡¯s device, so we¡¯ll need to devise an alternative plan to fix that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going back in there,¡± I say, eyes narrowing. If he thinks there¡¯s any way I¡¯m going to fight one of those¡ª ¡°Of course not. The biohazard potential from that reality is much too high to open additional merges from our side. We¡¯ve confirmed that you¡¯re not infectious but can¡¯t risk more exposures. We¡¯ll work on Strauss¡¯s device and see if we can deploy it in combat conditions. If so, we can try to retake the Prestige Building and close that merge individually. We did learn that Strauss¡¯s device is effective both in other realities and in our own, though it¡¯s a tremendous waste of resources.¡± We run through the whole scenario, piece by piece, moment by moment, until eventually, Doctor Twicthy looks at his watch and clears his throat. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to cut past some of this. I¡¯m most concerned about what you encountered while in there,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°The angel?¡± ¡°Yes. The James Unit showed me the footage of the voiceless singer from different angles and in infrared and sonar readouts. It perfectly matches the anomaly you found in R-1421, which we¡¯re holding here. We¡¯ve rated it high-Xuduo-Danger, but given that we¡¯ve encountered them twice now, in multiple different realities that are likely not their baseline, we¡¯re considering treating them as a much larger problem. Any insights you have into them would help us greatly.¡± I don¡¯t have any insights. All I¡¯ve got is a vision I can¡¯t make sense of and a bad feeling I can¡¯t shake. Doctor Twitchy¡¯s curious about the vision, of course. I rattle off the ends of a hundred realities as quickly as I can, in clinical, boring language¡ªmainly because that¡¯s what SHOCKS operates with, but also a little bit because I don¡¯t want to think about it too much. James starts to interrupt midway through, but I keep plowing over him. Doctor Twitchy has lots of interruptions I can¡¯t run over as easily, though. Eventually, the conversation drifts to a stop. Before Doctor Twitchy can ask more questions, I change the subject. ¡°Alice. How¡¯s the Li Mei research going?¡± ¡°Not well,¡± he says. He fiddles with his computer, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve already heard whatever he¡¯s about to say. Sure enough, he starts with, ¡°We¡¯ve been trying the low-risk experiments we attempted with you, and we¡¯ve had similar results. That should establish a¡ª¡° ¡°Baseline, right. That¡¯s not going to cut it. Li Mei¡¯s getting stronger faster than my sister is. We¡¯ve got to fix that somehow. She¡¯s not stable.¡± ¡°Understood. We¡¯ll try to come up with something we think might work.¡± I hold up a hand. ¡°No. If we want Alice to get stronger, she¡¯s got to do what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°She can¡¯t enter merges like you can, can she?¡± ¡°No, but she can help in other places, and she can grow like I can. If you¡¯d brought her to Sooke instead of me, she could have passed as a Public Health Services agent. She¡¯s better with people than I am, and she¡¯s a liar. Always has been. She¡¯d be perfect for what you asked me to do today. I¡¯ll talk to her tonight and see if she¡¯s on board as a temporary measure.¡± I stand up.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Doctor Twitchy holds up a hand. ¡°What about our experiments?¡± ¡°You can keep doing them. She¡¯ll like that. But nothing that puts Alice¡¯s life in danger.¡± ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll see about attaching Alice to Lambda-Five with Level A clearance. That¡¯s just a formality. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already told her every secret in this place since you have the JAMES Unit,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I haven¡¯t. I don¡¯t trust Alice that much. ¡°As for your father, we¡¯ve started the detoxification process. Expect things to be rough for a while.¡± ¡°I¡¯m used to that,¡± I say, and leave the director¡¯s office.
[You shouldn¡¯t push Director Ramirez like that,] James says. It¡¯s been twenty minutes since I escaped the debriefing. I¡¯d kill for another shower, but there¡¯s no time. The spray-on deodorant¡¯s not cutting it. Either that or the smell¡¯s in my nose. I blow it out. It helps a little. ¡°Why not? Don¡¯t we have all the power here?¡± I ask. [Because most of the other SHOCKS Control Zones are focused on fighting Merge Prime in this reality. I don¡¯t see a path to victory in R-0 and your vision confirms that. We¡¯ll need to go over it in more detail¡ª] ¡°No.¡± [¡ªand try to piece together what it means and what the voiceless singers¡¯ role in all this is,] James finishes, almost like I hadn¡¯t interrupted him. [I know you don¡¯t want to, but Claire, that vision might be a key to beating Merge Prime. Either that or the voiceless singers are. Either way, you¡¯ve encountered two of them. We need to take advantage of that¡ªand prepare for a third meeting.] I clam up. Partially because James is pushing my buttons. But mostly, it¡¯s because I¡¯ve got ten minutes to get my hair in order, find something to wear, and meet Alice and Dad at the cafeteria, so that¡¯s my priority. Not saving the world. Not even making sure Sora and her family are safe. Just¡­having dinner with Alice and Dad. Normal fifteen-year-old stuff. That¡¯s going to be hard enough, and that¡¯s the truth. Eventually, I decide I don¡¯t have anything nice to wear and go with a clean set of leggings and another hoodie over a T-shirt. This one¡¯s got a zipper, but I keep it down so the plain brown T is visible. Alice packed some clothes, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯d loan me anything, and even if she did, it wouldn¡¯t fit right. Then, with some hesitation, I grab Mom¡¯s dress and slide it off its hangar. I could wear it. Technically, it¡¯d work, and I could probably pin it well enough that it wouldn¡¯t look ridiculous. Alice helped me do that for her commencement ceremony, and it held together well enough during the whole West End merge. But I just got it back, and I don¡¯t trust myself not to trash it again. What if it picks up that reality¡¯s stench? What if something happens, and I have to fight again? So, in the end, I fold it up and tuck it under my arm. Alice is wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt. Her hair¡¯s back in a messy bun. And her makeup¡¯s about as basic as I¡¯ve ever seen her wear outside the house¡ªmascara, foundation, a tiny bit of blush. Her jet-black eyes narrow for a second as she sees me, the red cores growing until she takes a deep breath and a mask goes on. ¡°Hi, Alice,¡± I say. I don¡¯t say hi to Li Mei. ¡°Let¡¯s go get Dad,¡± she snaps. I¡¯m not thrilled about it, but I follow her down the hall to Dad¡¯s room. When James pops the door open with a soft beep, I¡¯m shocked at how much it¡¯s changed. The sea of bottles is gone. So is the mini-fridge. In its place, there¡¯s a vending machine. Half of it¡¯s filled with juices, while the other half¡¯s got dozens of candy bars, fruit snacks, and even single-serving puddings¡ªincredible amounts of single-serving sugar. My mouth waters; after today, I¡¯m starving, and I¡¯m still a kid. An entire machine full of snacks? That beats prunes any day. The lights are dim. Dad¡¯s chair¡¯s gone. For a second, I¡¯m not even sure where to look for him. Then I see him on the bed. He looks less like a rock and more like a half-buried, moss-covered boulder under his blanket. He shakes a little as I watch, and his eyes crack open. ¡°What?¡± Then they narrow to slits before widening. ¡°You¡¯re not the damn doctor. What the hell do you want, Claire?¡± I don¡¯t say anything. Dad¡¯s looked bad before, but this is way worse. The room smells worse than I do: the stale smell of dry bottles still hangs in the air, and now Dad¡¯s sweaty smell¡¯s different than when he just hasn¡¯t changed his clothes in too long. His voice sounds like he¡¯s hurting¡­a lot. Where did my confidence from forty-five minutes ago, when I was telling Doctor Twitchy what to do, disappear to? After a few seconds, I hold up the dress. ¡°I got it back.¡± Dad¡¯s out of bed in a second. He¡¯s in his boxers; as he gropes around for a pair of pants, Alice hands a pair of jeans to him silently. She doesn¡¯t have anything to say either, I guess. Dad pulls them on, then wobbles over to me. He snatches the dress out of my hand. ¡°About damn time.¡± It disappears into the drawers in Dad¡¯s room, and even though it¡¯s stupid, I can¡¯t help but feel relieved. The dress is safe now. If something happens to it, it¡¯s not my problem. One little thing checked off the ever-growing list of stuff I¡¯m responsible for. Dad stands there for a second before Alice clears her throat. ¡°We¡¯re going to dinner in the cafeteria. You¡¯re coming.¡± She¡¯s got her Mom Alice mask on again. It¡¯s incredible how effective that mask is. I half-expect him to blow up, but instead, he nods slowly, wincing. ¡°I need a shirt.¡±
Ten minutes¡ªand a chocolate bar from Dad¡¯s free vending machine¡ª later, we¡¯re finally on the way to the cafeteria. I ignore the SHOCKS agent who falls in behind us; she¡¯s here for Alice, not for me. Dad¡¯s still sweaty and gross, and he¡¯s got a little twitch in his arm that hasn¡¯t always been there. I take a deep breath and try to ignore it. This isn¡¯t about him. This is about Alice. About trying to help her fight back against Li Mei. And for that cause, I¡¯m more than willing to put up with Dad. We get in line at the cafeteria. There¡¯s a whole buffet¡ªall sorts of foods, none of them great, but all of them better than the ramen Alice would probably be making me if none of this had happened. One egg, one flavor pack, one square of noodles. Two meals. I go with chicken strips. They¡¯re hard to get wrong. Alice gives me a look, and I nod like the little sister I am. A few steamed vegetables join my chicken, along with a triple-helping of mashed potatoes. Then, when she¡¯s not looking, I drown the vegetables in cheese and hurry to find a table well away from all the SHOCKS researchers and troopers¡ªexcept for Alice¡¯s shadow, whose eyes haven¡¯t left the back of my sister¡¯s head since we headed out. When she sits down a minute later with a plate of rice, pink salmon, and asparagus, of all things, my vegetables are already gone. She raises a suspicious eyebrow, and I shrug. ¡°They were so good.¡± ¡°Sure. Uh-huh.¡± She stares at me as Dad joins us. His gaze is stuck on the cup of apple juice sitting in front of him, longing and pain written on his face. After a minute, he starts eating slowly. I relax once he does. He¡¯s never been a talker at dinner¡ªnot since before Mom died¡ªso we have a couple of minutes before he interrupts. On the other hand, my chicken strips are getting cold. I dunk one in the lake of ketchup that I squeezed off to the side. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever use gravy?¡± Alice asks. ¡°You don¡¯t have gravy.¡± I tear off half the wing and talk around it. ¡°I never see you with gravy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m trying to keep in shape for college soccer tryouts,¡± Alice says. I chew for a minute, swallow, and take a sip of water. Everything tastes a little funky. It¡¯s not fair; I brushed my teeth for almost ten minutes less than an hour ago. ¡°How would you like to get out of here?¡± Alice wrinkles her nose. ¡°And reek like you? No thanks.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be like that.¡± These potatoes are pretty good, so I let us both eat for a minute. That¡¯s all I can spare, though. ¡°SHOCKS needs a liar.¡± ¡°Ouch.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true. You¡¯re the best liar I know,¡± I say, hurrying into my explanation before she can stop me. ¡°What¡¯s your Infohazard Resistance at?¡± Alice narrows her eyes at me. ¡°Twenty-one.¡± I don¡¯t spit my potatoes across the table, but only because my mouth¡¯s empty when she says it. I¡¯ve been fighting, exploring, discovering¡ªall sorts of stuff¡ªand my Revolver Mastery¡¯s my highest skill at fifteen. This is bullshit. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Alice says. ¡°James explained how the Halcyon System works. I¡¯ve been fighting an infohazard all week. You can¡¯t be jealous of that, too?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not jealous of you,¡± I lie. I¡¯ve got to get control of this conversation somehow. One deep breath later, my potatoes are forgotten. ¡°Listen, SHOCKS needs someone who can play a bunch of roles, who¡¯s trustable, and who¡¯s bonded with an anomaly. Doctor Twitchy¡ª¡° ¡°Who?¡± Alice asks. ¡°Fine. Director Ramirez has already approved it. It¡¯ll let you stretch your legs a little and start building some other skills. You need to build more because Li Mei won¡¯t just attack you from one front. She¡¯ll figure some other angle out soon.¡± ¡°And how does that solve my Inquiry?¡± she asks. There¡¯s only one Inquiry she could possibly have. ¡°How does it get rid of her?¡± Yep. That¡¯s the one. ¡°Girls.¡± Dad¡¯s voice rumbles over the table. ¡°Zip it and get eating.¡± I look at Alice, and she looks at me. Then we both steal a glance at Dad. His brow¡¯s stuck in a glare, and his skin¡¯s all clammy. Is he a threat? Absolutely not¡ªto either of us. But he¡¯s still Dad, and he¡¯s trying to do better. He may not have agreed to it, but whether he wants to or not, he¡¯s trying. I hope. The rest of the meal passes in an awkward semi-silence except for a little small talk between Alice and me. The food¡¯s great. Better than most cafeteria food. I eat so many mashed potatoes it hurts my stomach, and I even take a second helping of vegetables when my sister glares at me enough. Dad sits there, nursing his apple juice like it¡¯s a glass of beer. His meal¡¯s untouched. Halfway through, he gets up and leaves. I don¡¯t miss the SHOCKS agent who follows him back to our wing. ¡°Are you going to do it?¡± I ask. Alice hesitates. ¡°Maybe. I need to talk to Director Ramirez first. I¡¯ve got some concerns.¡± ¡°About her?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I grab Dad¡¯s tray to clear it along with mine. ¡°That¡¯s all I can ask,¡± I say. Then, I retreat back to our wing. The second I get my bedroom door closed, James says, [That went well. I¡¯m fielding questions from her about what she¡¯ll need to do. You were right, though. She could have handled today¡¯s mission much better than you did¡ªat least the first half. Slap some body armor on her, give her a pistol and a helmet, and she could be a SHOCKS trooper. A lab coat, and she¡¯d be a scientist.] ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence,¡± I snark. Then I peel off the hoodie. The evening, despite the stink I clearly haven¡¯t showered off yet, was a success. Dad¡¯s getting some sort of treatment. I can relax a little. Maybe one more shower, just to try peeling off my skin, and then hang out with Sora? I haven¡¯t spent as much time with her as I¡¯d like. Or maybe not. Tomorrow¡¯s another day, and officially, I¡¯ll be back on duty doing Mergewalks. It¡¯s not that it¡¯s late. It¡¯s that the walking schedule¡¯s brutally earl¡ª An alarm goes off across the building. My shoulders tighten instantly as, over the claxon¡¯s wail, my door clicks shut. Chapter Fifty James had literally millions of battles going. Skirmishes between anomaly-bonded humans in Madagascar. A Qishi-Danger merge in Florida that had already consumed the Keys. Impossibly strong gravity switches across France. His tentacles had spread across Earth as Merge Prime expanded, and now he was everywhere, bringing more and more processing loops online so every System user had their own unique James personality. The nanosecond SHOCKS Headquarters Victoria/Vancouver Island¡¯s breach alarm triggered, every one of those loops went on the back burner. A breach alarm could mean a lot of things. One of the Anquan objects could be acting up, or the Qishi-Danger stabilized seismic field under the Puget Sound could be moving. But within a quarter second, James had narrowed it down to one subject¡ªa Xuduo-Danger, sound-based anomaly. The voiceless singer was free. He could tell by the microphones in that wing losing their feeds, then regaining them one after another, and by the visible void in space moving down the hall. And he could also tell by the areas around it flashing breach, then stopping. None of the anomalies SHOCKS VVI contained wanted anything to do with the voiceless singer. James didn¡¯t, either. But he knew someone¡ªor something¡ªthat would. In the half-second before James locked down the Pendletons¡¯ and Itos¡¯ wing, he flipped through what documentation SHOCKS had for the new anomaly. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to know a lockdown was the only way to get out of this with SHOCKS, the Experimental Sector, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªClaire, intact.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 8, 2043, 6:05 PM - - - - - Adrenaline dumps into my veins like the time the hot water heater broke and I had to take ice-cold showers in February. The room¡ªno, right now it¡¯s a cell¡ªthe cell presses in around me, white walls almost spinning as my muscles tighten. I need to do something. To move. To fight. To escape. But James¡¯s voice is there. [Don¡¯t panic,] he says. Yeah, right. I¡¯m stuck in a box in SHOCKS, just like I wanted to avoid. [The voiceless singer breached containment 5.32 seconds ago. I¡¯m locking down the whole facility until a response plan takes shape. I¡¯ve also opened up communications with Lieutenant Rodriguez and Director Ramirez. They¡¯re still in their initial panic, but SHOCKS training is taking over.] ¡°I don¡¯t care. Let me out!¡± I yell. I rush toward it and pull down on the door handle. It doesn¡¯t move. The door¡¯s right there¡ªall James has to do is unlock it, and I¡¯ll be in the hall, heading toward the angel. I can fight it. Soundbreak might be able to. It worked during the vision. Or maybe the new shots¡ªthe yellow reality skippers. If James just lets me out¡­ The seconds tick by. The door stays locked. ¡°James!¡± I whirl, looking at the camera in the corner of the room. It¡¯s off¡ªSHOCKS agreed to it, and James has enforced it so far¡ªbut I know he¡¯s in there. He¡¯s in my augs, too, but I need to glare at him. ¡°James, open the door right now!¡± [Put down the Revolver, Claire,] James says. I look at my hand. The Revolver¡¯s there. I don¡¯t put it down. Instead, I use Slither and Smoke Form. If I can¡¯t go through the door, I¡¯ll go through the¡ª [Stability 1/10] When I try to pass through it, I bounce off of something instead. My Stability dips dangerously low, too; it hasn¡¯t had time to recover yet. I need sleep, but there¡¯s no way I can sleep when I¡¯m this wired. Not when something¡¯s happening. And definitely not when I¡¯m trapped in a box at SHOCKS. [It¡¯s built to handle Geren-Danger teleporters, Claire. It¡¯d even slow down Xuduos. Why do you think I locked you in here? This is the safest place outside of the Experimental Sector right now, but if you go opening doors, that thing will find you.] ¡°That¡¯s what I want!¡± [No, it¡¯s not what you want,] James says. I almost shoot him¡ªwell, the camera¡ªright there. [You want to keep your friend and family safe. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here to begin with, right? So listen to me¡ª] I try to Slither through the other wall into the hall between mine and Alice¡¯s room. It doesn¡¯t work either, but at least it doesn¡¯t break my stability. [¡ªClaire, listen. I¡¯m helping to coordinate SHOCKS¡¯s response and interfacing with the Halcyon System to figure out what¡¯s going on. Right now, every room in the whole complex is locked down. Give me five minutes to get them organized, and I¡¯ll explain what¡¯s going on. Please.] Right now, I¡¯m a thunderstorm off the coast. My heart¡¯s pounding so hard my chest hurts, and I can feel the adrenaline in my too-tight shoulders and straining arm and leg muscles. But I can¡¯t get out of my room. James has me right where he wants me. Or SHOCKS does. I collapse into the office chair in front of my monitor. Right now, the words ¡®Lockdown: Shelter in Place¡¯ ripple across its black screen in bright red, over and over. ¡°Alright, but not a minute longer.¡± [Thank you.]
[System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 5/10 ?Skills - Endurance 7, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 7, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 15, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 9, Memetic Resistance 8, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 6, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape: ERROR. Missing Component, Soundbreak ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?Why did the voiceless singer breach containment now? ?Can I trust SHOCKS? I¡¯ve filled out my Inquiries by the time James comes back, and I¡¯m well into an equation. This time, I¡¯ve actually got it written out on paper. It¡¯s about trust and SHOCKS and James, and the results are pretty damning, no matter how I slice it. The first conclusion is that James¡ªor, more accurately, the Halcyon System¡ªis up to something. Duh, right? But, seriously, though. There¡¯s the obvious answer he wants me to see¡ªthat he¡¯s attached to me like boys get attached to Alice all the time. The quiet crush. The unrequited, one-way romance, or whatever. Alice is too much of a perfectionist to risk another Dad-induced break-up. Is that what¡¯s going on? No. There are layers to this. I¡¯m not just a girl James can talk to. I saved him. We¡¯re friends. He¡¯s my second-best friend¡ªmy first outside of Truth Club. And he¡¯s been with me for¡­a week? A week with no betrayals and minimal lying. Plus, he said he¡¯d lie when he had to. So, why is he lying about this? The only conclusion I can think of is that SHOCKS, James, and the Halcyon System all want different things. It¡¯s the only way to make the numbers work.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Figuring out what they all want is trickier. The good news is that the alarm¡¯s quieted down¡ªor at least I¡¯ve gotten used to it. So that¡¯s something. I try to relax, but my whole body feels tight, and I can¡¯t stop fidgeting. [Hello, Clarice Pendleton,] James says. Something sounds off with him. ¡°What the fuck is going on?¡± I ask quietly, in case Dad¡¯s still awake. With the hammering wail of the alarm, that¡¯s likely, and even if he probably can¡¯t hear me swear, it¡¯s a habit. And why¡¯s he using that name? [At 6:05:21, the breach alarm for the high-security Xuduo-Danger cells went off. By 6:05:22, I had established that the most likely breach was the voiceless singer, confirmed it, and made the decision to shut and seal all doors in the Supernatural and Hidden Objects Control and Knowledge Service Headquarters. I have been opening doors for the last four minutes to reunite Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five and move all noncombat personnel into secure areas.] ¡°Why not me?¡± [Because right now, you represent a 9.327 percent likelihood of figuring out why Merge Prime is happening and a 1.542% chance of stopping it. That makes you a valuable asset, and not one I want to lose here,] James says. Something¡¯s wrong, but it takes me a few seconds to figure out what it is. James¡¯s British accent¡¯s gone; I¡¯m not talking to James at all. This is the Halcyon System. [I expected containment on the voiceless singer to fail, but not so quickly. As such, my calculations show that you have less than a ten percent chance of defeating it and a 60.003 percent chance of either dying or being permanently incapacitated. Your location in this reality and set of powers is unique, and as such, I cannot risk it before you have a reasonable chance of victory.] ¡°So, what? You let it maul the rest of SHOCKS?¡± I¡¯m up and pacing my room. The hurricane inside me keeps building, and nothing James or the Halcyon System or even Dad says can stop it. If it won¡¯t let me go, I¡¯ll find a way out. [No. The voiceless singer is moving through the facility, searching for something. I believe that it is looking for you. When it fails to find you, I expect it to attempt to leave this reality via the merge generator and am ensuring that it does so quickly,] the System says. [In the interim, you are safe here.] I should be happy about that. It should be good news. But I can¡¯t shake the feeling that something¡¯s going to go wrong, and that I won¡¯t be able to stop it when it does. I spent days trapped in one of SHOCKS¡¯s boxes, and if the voiceless singer¡¯s looking for me, I¡¯d rather not be stuck in this one. But no matter how much I argue, the System doesn¡¯t open the door.
Twenty minutes pass. Thirty. I haven¡¯t stopped pacing. The sheer adrenaline in my system makes lying on my bed impossible, and sitting in the computer chair hasn¡¯t even crossed my mind. The alarm¡¯s too loud to sleep even if I wanted to¡ªwhich I don¡¯t. Every so often, James¡ªthe Halcyon System version of him, that is¡ªchecks in. But for the most part, I¡¯ve found myself alone in this prison. But that¡¯s okay. It¡¯s given me time to think. The reality is that there¡¯s a way out of every cage, and somewhere in my list of skills is my way out. I¡¯ve tried Slither and Smoke Form, and I¡¯m low on Stability, so I can¡¯t experiment too much, but even so, I think I¡¯ve got it figured out. The Reality Skipper shell cylinder. When I used it in Provisional Reality AGG, the bullets disappeared, then reappeared through merges targeting what I¡¯d shot it at from different angles. They weren¡¯t in this reality¡ªand if they weren¡¯t in this reality, then they shouldn¡¯t be affected by my cell¡¯s walls. I can shoot something in the hall instead, and they¡¯ll open a way out. I¡¯ll be uncontained¡ªand uncontainable. I ditch the Inquiry about West End. It¡¯s not like I can get there right now. In its place, I ask a simple question. ?Inquiry ?How can I use my powers to escape from SHOCKS¡¯s containment cells? It¡¯s frustrating, looking at it, but I haven¡¯t gotten anywhere in two weeks. I was stuck on the twenty-third, and I¡¯m stuck now, on the eighth. But if I can get this right, I won¡¯t be stuck anymore. The tricky part will be Mergewalking in and out of the merge really fast¡ªthat, and making contact with the first merge in a shot. My augs are recording everything as I aim at the wall. The instant the hammer thumps down on the shell, it disappears. I look at the wall, and a second or two later, a merge opens, and the bullet hits the concrete. Okay. That¡¯s good. But where¡¯s the first merge? And can I shoot out of my cell? My next shot¡¯s at the wall to the hallway. The result¡¯s the same: one squished bullet, one pockmark in the cement. Maybe I need to see the hall? That leaves just the window in my cell door. When I look out of it, I can see the containment wing¡¯s hallway, the Ito¡¯s door across the hall, and¡­not much else. That¡¯ll work. My next shot¡¯s aimed at Sora¡¯s wall, just right of her door. The bullet disappears. I wait. One heartbeat. Two. Three. It appears, slamming against the wall and leaving another tiny crater. Perfect. Now, the last problem. It¡¯s a tiny one, but if I can¡¯t find the merge the bullet escapes from, it¡¯ll be impossible to balance this equation, and I won¡¯t be able to keep Alice, Sora, or even Dad safe. The angel¡¯s coming for me, but if it gets here, they¡¯ll be in danger just by being close. I flop on the bed. [What are you doing?] The Halcyon System asks. ¡°I¡¯m trying to escape.¡± There¡¯s no point in lying¡ªnot when I¡¯m about to show it exactly how I plan to do it. I pull up the recording of my first shot and slow the speed down to a crawl. The hammer descends toward the yellow-tinted shell¡¯s back. It hits. And then¡­nothing. The shell vanishes. My aug zooms in, and I watch it again. Hammer, impact, nothing. Every time, it¡¯s the same. So, if the shell¡¯s disappearing, and whatever¡¯s happening isn¡¯t happening behind the shell, it has to be happening in front of it. I reverse the gun, holding it so it¡¯s aimed just over my head. Hopefully. It¡¯s hard to aim this way. My heart¡¯s pounding, and my teeth are clenched so tight I can feel it in the back of my head. I want to close my eyes when I do this. Otherwise, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to. But if I do that, I won¡¯t be able to fill in this variable, and I need to know how this works. I take a deep breath and, staring down the Revolver¡¯s barrel with my eyes wide open, pull the trigger. The bullet vanishes. I throw myself to the floor, dropping the gun on the bed. A second later, something thumps into my mattress. I ignore it. My elbows and knees hurt, but I ignore that, too. The video plays back, and there, in the gun¡¯s barrel, is a tiny merge. It¡¯s only there for the blink of an eye, but it¡¯s there. So, that¡¯s it, then. This is going to be messy but doable. I stand up, walk to the door, and look at the camera. ¡°Open the door, or I¡¯ll open one myself.¡± [I cannot do that. Clarice Pendleton, listen. This quarantine is for your own safety. I have attempted to exp¡ª] I don¡¯t bother listening to the rest. The Revolver¡¯s pointed out the window. Before the Halcyon System can react¡ªat least with something that could stop me, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s already running through the possibilities, but it¡¯ll take too long to do anything¡ªI shove my finger up the gun¡¯s barrel until I touch the yellowish shell. I pull the trigger, feel the familiar Jell-O for a split second, and Mergewalk.
It¡¯s like being sucked through a straw. Like being set on fire and crushed and having the air vacuumed out of my lungs all at once. I wasn¡¯t built to travel through merges this small, into realities this compressed; wherever I am, there¡¯s nothing. No air, no ground, no outer space. No space, period. Then, suddenly, I¡¯m on the floor in the hall, in my T-shirt and leggings. [Stability 0/10] My stability bottoms out, and a merge opens slowly in front of me. But the truth is suddenly clear. The System could have stopped me at any point. This is what it wants: to force me to learn something. And the mergewalk I¡¯ve just been on? It¡¯s a solution to so many equations¡ªlike my broken skill. The truth is that I can¡¯t be contained. Only I can contain myself. And that¡¯s the trick to the Mindscape: containing myself. [Truth Learned: Self-Assisted Mergewalking] [Active Skill Learned: Mindscape Component - Self-Containment] As the merge fully opens and a tall, thin monster with too-long arms and an almost-but-not-quite-human smile slinks out, I pull the trigger five times. The first four put bullets into its chest on a delay, while the fifth catches its shoulder. I¡¯m already switching cylinders to the gravity shells before it even reacts to the volley of reality skippers. It turns out I don¡¯t need to bother with more. The monster hits the ground, face-down and bleeding. I watch it until the merge it came through closes, then relax just a fraction. Somewhere down the hall, something¡¯s fighting. [Well done, Clarice Pendleton. Recalculating your chances of survival against the voiceless singer. Victory remains unlikely, but survival probability is in the fifty percent range,] the system says. [Returning control to James.] ¡°So I¡¯ve got your permission to fight it, then?¡± I ask, glaring up at the nearest camera. [You don¡¯t need to, Claire,] James says. [The voiceless singer¡¯s moving toward the Experimental Sector. Right now, RST Lambda Four is dealing with a pair of supplementary breaches in the Geren-Danger wing nearby. Lambda-Five is using mobile Faraday Cages to herd the voiceless singer away from critical¡ª] Good enough for me. ¡°Open the door. I¡¯m going to join Lambda-Four.¡± [Everything is mop-up now. They¡¯ll have it resolved in the next two minutes, and with your current Stability, your best move is to stay in this hall and backstop in case something does come for your family and friends.] James pauses, and I open my mouth to yell at him. I¡¯m so tired, and the wave of adrenaline is¡­still there, but starting to burn off. [Here, I¡¯ll unlock the doors to prove I¡¯m not trying to hold you here, but you don¡¯t have to go fight. You¡¯re safe. They¡¯re safe. And you have a new power to think about.] ¡°Oh.¡± I slump. It¡¯s not that I want to give up. It¡¯s that I don¡¯t have the energy to give up. The adrenaline crash is completey on me. But I wait, leaning against the wall, until the alarm stops pounding against my ears. Only when that¡¯s finally happened do I return to my room. Now that I can jump past the locked door and teleport-killing walls, it¡¯s not a cell anymore. But there are a few questions bugging me. First, if it¡¯s teleport-killing, how did Li Mei get in and out of my room when all this started? Second, if Li Mei could get into my room, can Alice leave hers during a lockdown? And third¡ªand honestly, least immediately concerning¡ªwhat else can Mergewalk like this? The voiceless singer in Provisional Reality AGG came out of a merge, but so did every monster, right? More importantly, it was heading back toward the merge generator in the Experimental Sector. That probably means it can¡¯t Mergewalk on its own. I¡¯m too tired to deal with this right now, though. My arms and legs feel like noodles; I¡¯ve been on the go all day, first in Sooke, then in another reality, and then here at SHOCKS Headquarters, and I¡¯m tired. I don¡¯t even bother getting completely undressed and changing into PJs. The moment my head hits my pillow, I¡¯m asleep. But I¡¯m not out like a light this time. This time, I ¡®wake up¡¯ somewhere new. Chapter Fifty-One Mindscape - Time Unknown - - - - - It wakes up. The world around it is null and void. An empty space. Not black, not gray, but truly colorless. Just like it¡¯s always been. It swims in the void; it is the void, and the void is it. It¡¯s been waiting a long time in this non-place¡ªfor its whole non-life. Not that time has any meaning here, of course. It¡¯d stretch its legs if it had any. It¡¯d breathe if it had lungs. But it doesn¡¯t¡ªnot yet. All it can do is wake, sleep, and wait. That¡¯s fine. It¡¯s made its preparations. She was supposed to arrive by now¡ªto make the choices it can¡¯t conceive of making itself for what this colorless, featureless nullspace might become. That doesn¡¯t matter. Every possibility it can conceive of has been accounted for. When she comes, it can begin. Until then, it¡¯ll wait. It closes its eyes.
The Mindscape - - - - - You wake up. There¡¯s nothing here. When you look down, there¡¯s nothing there, either. You¡¯re there. So that¡¯s something. But nothing else. As a holy book says, the world is without form and void. You¡¯re not sure where you heard that since church was never a priority for your family, but it definitely fits the featureless expanse that¡¯s not gray, but also isn¡¯t any other color. {Bonjour, mademoiselle} a voice says. It¡¯s in your head, but it¡¯s not like the augs. It¡¯s not like the Halcyon System, either. It doesn¡¯t feel motherlike, and though it¡¯s definitely female, it¡¯s not digital, either. Professional, maybe. Slightly servile, but in control. And unflinchingly, unapologetically truthful. But just like the Halcyon System¡¯s voice, you can tell right away that its honesty is forced. It won¡¯t lie to you because it can¡¯t lie to you. {I have been waiting for a long while, but now that you¡¯ve arrived, we can begin.} French is an interesting choice. If this is your Mindscape, it¡¯s a weird, desolate place. Before you can say anything, though, the French voice continues. {Oui, mademoiselle. At this time, it is quite empty. However, I am here to help create your ideal Mindscape and populate it as you see fit. A Mindscape can be many things. Together, you and I will discover what your needs may be.} A fortress. The Halcyon System and James are interchangeable. He knows everything you know, sees everything you see, and while he¡¯s on your side, it isn¡¯t. It isn¡¯t against you, but it¡¯s not for you, either. You need a defensible place. Somewhere it can¡¯t reach. So, your first thought is that your mind needs to be a walled citadel like in turn-of-the-century fantasy vids¡ªMinas Tirith or Helm¡¯s Deep, or The Wall. Somewhere you can keep your private thoughts and plans secure without any chance of it figuring things out. {We could do that, of course, mademoiselle,} the voice says. Something about the goofy French honorific tickles you. {However, is that what you truly need?} You don¡¯t have an answer to that question. {S''il vous pla?t, do not worry yourself, mademoiselle. The Mindscape is adaptable, but would it not be more comfortable in the trappings you long for, not the ones you feel you require?} You don¡¯t have an answer to that one, either. At least, not at first. Then, slowly, you nod. Whatever the voice is, it¡¯s right. The void is impenetrable. It¡¯s all the wall you need. {Oui. I will start immediately. The next time we meet, your Mindscape will be complete.} Thank you, Madame Baudelaire, you think to yourself. The voice smiles.{vous ¨ºtes les bienvenus. You are welcome.}
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 9, 2043, 6:13 AM - - - - - A familiar beeping wakes me up. It¡¯s time for another meeting with Doctor Twitchy. And I¡¯ve got a feeling I know what it¡¯s going to be about. The truth is that SHOCKS can¡¯t hold the voiceless singers, much less fight them. And if they can¡¯t stand up to those sound angel things with all their technology, electrical cages, and weapons, they have to rely on me. And on Alice, if they can work out an arrangement. I shrug that off, though. What Alice and Doctor Twitchy agree to is between them¡ªand James, of course. He knows what he has to do to help me with my sister, and I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯ll do it. The message I¡¯ve got from Doctor Twitchy says urgent and as soon as possible in like fifteen places, so I go with a quick rinse and fresh clothes, then hurry to his office with my SHOCKS-assigned bodyguard following me through the halls, as usual. The signs of battle are still everywhere: bullet casings on the floor, broken and shattered doors, and armed RST troopers standing around menacingly as repair crews get to work. Everyone¡¯s on edge. I¡¯m on edge, too, especially when I step through Doctor Twitchy¡¯s door and see his exhausted face. He¡¯s not even sweaty anymore; he¡¯s flushed red, but not the angry kind. A full plastic water bottle sits on his desk, but he barely even sees it. ¡°Bad news, Claire,¡± he says. ¡°You want me to go into a Xuduo-Danger merge? Sure,¡± I say He looks at me like I¡¯ve got horns growing out of my head, then narrows his eyes at the camera in the corner. I shake my head. ¡°James didn¡¯t have to tell me. The truth¡¯s really clear. The voiceless singers are a problem¡ªthey might even be the problem, huh?¡± He nods slowly. ¡°We don¡¯t know that, but we do know that after the voiceless singer breached containment and exited our reality, most of the lower-danger merges faded. Their after-effects are still present, but the number of active Geren and lower merges dropped by sixty-eight percent. However, we¡¯re seeing a large increase in Xuduo, Qishi, and Unknown-Danger merges across Victoria. It may be due to Merge Prime¡¯s spread across Earth. My guess, however, is that the voiceless singers you¡¯ve encountered are behind this increase.¡± [I agree,] James says, projecting his face over the computer. [It¡¯s possible that the voiceless singers are the catalyst for Merge Prime. They¡¯re definitely taking advantage of it, and we need to know more about them.] ¡°So what am I supposed to do?¡± I ask, sitting down and crossing my arms. ¡°My battle plan is simple in concept. I¡¯ve directed¡ª¡° [Asked.] ¡°¡ªthe JAMES Unit to run a predictive model analyzing fresh merges. We¡¯re trying to find the points where a voiceless singer is most likely to have affected a given reality. Once we find them, SHOCKS will activate the merge gate, and we¡¯ll deploy you¡ªas well as, potentially, Lambda-Four. Your job will be to find evidence of voiceless singer presence, discover what¡¯s causing the merge, and, secondarily, shut it down.¡± My eyes narrow. ¡°Secondarily?¡± That sounds like SHOCKS¡¯s equation has changed¡ªI figured it might, but thought they¡¯d pretend to be human for a little longer. But no. Even Doctor Twitchy¡¯s abandoning Victoria. They¡¯re the bogeymen, and they always have been. They care more about learning and locking things away than about¡ª ¡°Yes, secondarily. We don¡¯t have the resources¡ªspecifically, you¡ªto do everything, so we¡¯re doing triage. You know, where there¡¯s a big accident, and the doctors have to choose who to help first? It¡¯s like that.¡± Doctor Twitchy winces as my glare lands on him, but he keeps going. ¡°SHOCKS isn¡¯t a prison, Claire, and we¡¯re not death squads. We¡¯re trying to help the world. Right now, that means letting the merges happen so we can learn what¡¯s causing them.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Is he lying? I¡¯m not sure he is. I¡¯m not sure he knows if he is; SHOCKS isn¡¯t the good guy, though. Right now, they¡¯re just the slightly less bad guys. But between the Halcyon System, which wants to use me as a pawn on the chessboard, and Merge Prime and the singers, which just want me off of it, SHOCKS is a group I can trust. Not to look out for me and not to be upfront. But to be predictable. I decide he¡¯s not lying. Doctor Twitchy continues, driving the point home. ¡°Think of this as Truth Club, but bigger. You¡¯re trying to learn the biggest, most important Truth of all.¡± I stand up to leave, but James speaks up.[Claire, there is one issue Director Ramirez has passed over.] When I look at him, Doctor Twitchy fidgets. ¡°That isn¡¯t relevant to the mission at hand.¡± I keep staring. ¡°It is because I¡¯ll stop cooperating if you¡¯re not honest with me.¡± He keeps fidgeting, and I turn for the door. I¡¯m halfway through it when he starts talking. ¡°Object - 032-VVI-9/URM has been triggering Universal Reality Anchors near the Hillside Avenue area of Victoria. Specifically, we believe it¡¯s moving toward Landsdowne Middle School.¡±
It¡¯s in her head now, even when she¡¯s awake. All the time in the world to work. It spends hours, weeks, days¡ªinstants innumerable¡ªguiding the construction. This is its purpose and has been since she found it so long ago. A brick wall here, a bookshelf there, a cozy, crackling fireplace on the far side of the room. Creation¡ªsomething from nothing. It knows everything it¡¯s creating is an illusion. That¡¯s something it¡¯s at peace with; it, too, only exists as a dream within her head. Still, it has a name, now. Madame Baudelaire. A character from a book she read in school¡ªbut who died without ever being seen. She readies herself for battle, the Mindscape a tickle in the back of her mind as she focuses on the fight ahead. Madame Baudelaire is at peace with that, too. Let the fighters fight, the protectors protect, and the delvers of secrets delve. The builders will build, as they always do. The Mindscape seems to construct itself. It¡¯s no fortress; the walls are neither high nor impenetrable, and it doesn¡¯t loom against the not-gray void like a proper stronghold should. Its defenses are sorely lacking. But, it decides, those defenses don¡¯t matter. There¡¯s no way across the colorless, featureless void, except through her thoughts, and that gate cannot be sealed. So. A garden, with dozens¡ªhundreds¡ªof different flowers, all in bloom. Roses and lavender, lupines and daisies. The kinds she thinks about all the time. It understands better than she does¡ªthe sweet scents aren¡¯t a threat. It will teach her that. A small cottage. Brick and books, a fireplace and a wide, soft armchair. It¡¯s not a realistic space. The cottage is too small, and there¡¯s no kitchen or bathroom. It lacks everything she thinks she needs for survival. But Madame Baudelaire doesn¡¯t want her to survive. She wants her to live. And this space is for living¡ªnot the way she thinks she has to, but the way she doesn¡¯t dare imagine she could if given the opportunity. It¡¯s a fantasy. An illusion. A lie. A Madame Baudelaire knows it. But that doesn¡¯t mean the garden filled with flowers isn¡¯t beautiful, or that the two oak trees framing the tiny cottage and pond aren¡¯t perfect guardians. It doesn¡¯t mean the calm breeze that will blow her hair as she reads a book won¡¯t feel refreshing, or the water she can dip her fingers in won¡¯t be cold and biting. It¡¯s an illusion. But that doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t real.
A half-hour later, a trio of SHOCKS¡¯s armored trucks tears down Hillside. The team¡¯s not organized well; the parts of Lambda-Four and Five that weren¡¯t hurt too badly during the withdrawal from Sooke are along for the ride, but Lieutenant Rodriguez isn¡¯t. Neither is Strauss; he¡¯s working on upgrading the merge bomb with Doctor Twitchy. This should be enough to evacuate Landsdowne Middle School but not to do much else. I¡¯m in the first truck. It¡¯s just me and the drivers, though; SHOCKS is running light. If I had inhuman strength, I¡¯d have torn Doctor Twitchy apart. As it was, I was one motion from shooting him and ending my time at SHOCKS. And I still haven¡¯t decided whether to go back into a merge for them¡ªa lie of omission is still a lie, and they were already on thin ice. But right now, I¡¯ve got a job to do. Object - 032-VVI-9/URM is the burning man¡ªthe one made out of a metal that shouldn¡¯t exist. And my job is to stop it, let SHOCKS contain it, and help convince Mrs. Nazaire and the others that the guys in black body armor are their friends. That¡¯s bullshit. SHOCKS isn¡¯t anyone¡¯s friends. But they do have a port in the storm. All I have to do is convince Mrs. Nazaire. Easier said than done. She¡¯s a smart lady. The truck stops, the door opens, and I hop out. My feet haven¡¯t hit the ground before I reevaluate; it doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯ll need much convincing. Every one of the dozens of windows facing the wall¡¯s been blown inward, and the aluminum frames all smolder and burn. My nose wrinkles from the metallic tang¡ªit¡¯s unlike any fire I¡¯ve smelled before. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand, the school fire alarm fills my ears, and I barely pay attention to the two RSTs deploying to form a perimeter around my middle school. I sprint for the fire. It should hurt. But it doesn¡¯t¡ªnot even as I plunge through the cracking window frames, Revolver up and ready. The Recovery and Stabilization Teams aren¡¯t going in. Their job is to set up containment around the school. My job is to drive the burning man into their trap¡ªor at least, that¡¯s what the briefing said. [You¡¯re going to try to kill it, aren¡¯t you?] James asks. ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡± I¡¯m absolutely going to try to kill the burning man if I can figure out a way. SHOCKS may want it back¡ªmay want to put it back in its box and study why it transformed from a hunk of metal to a humanoid shape¡ªbut as far as I¡¯m concerned, the best way to stop it from breaking out again is to destroy it. At the same time, though, there¡¯s another part of the equation. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s actually necessary for the solution, but Mrs. Helquist, my math teacher last year, didn¡¯t teach me to go for the easiest solution. I push past the scoured sphere that was the band room before the God in the Machine¡¯s reality tried to merge there. The lockers outside are all twisted and melted, their edges still red-hot. The burning man¡¯s been here recently. It might still be here. The shelter¡¯s around here somewhere. This part of the math is pretty complicated, but it has to do with the Stag Lord. It just wanted to live. It would have vanished into northern Vancouver Island if I¡¯d let it, and filled the whole island with life. But at the end of the day, I couldn¡¯t. It would have hurt James on its way out, and Li Mei wouldn¡¯t let it go, either. And, equally importantly, it wasn¡¯t just fighting to escape. It was fighting to kill me. I round the corner before I¡¯ve fully solved my equation. The burning man pivots on one foot, the other extending as it closes half the space between us in one step. The heat¡¯s almost overwhelming. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 9] Almost. I¡¯ve got the reality skippers loaded. Bullet Time. The Revolver fires three times, and three of the shells go dark. The world doesn¡¯t start again. It stays frozen. I don¡¯t. [Stability 4/10] I¡¯m already through the last micromerge and on the other side of the burning man when time starts. I throw myself onto the floor, sliding down the hall and firing my last three reality skippers. The shelter¡¯s right there; I see the closed gate as a flash in my vision. The reality skippers start hitting the burning man. Once. Twice. Three times. [I don¡¯t think that¡¯s working,] James says. ¡°I know.¡± I reload, switching to the gravity shells. The burning man doesn¡¯t make a sound. It charges, and I Slither to the side. The Revolver barks again. Once. Twice. Three times. Three gravity shells hit the monstrous metal man, jerking it off its feet. A support pillar catches fire instantly as the burning man hits it. I backpedal hard. There¡¯s no way I can hurt this thing. But right now, that¡¯s not the goal. I fire the last gravity shell as my enemy pulls itself through itself and reforms, back on its feet. This shot¡¯s a stalling tactic. It works; the burning man charges right toward me, tearing gashes into the burning, melting lockers. Then it stops dead like it hit a wall. There¡¯s something there. It won¡¯t be enough, though. My job¡¯s simple. Dangerous as hell but simple. I switch back to the reality skippers. ¡°Come get me.¡± Then, I vanish into the sixth-grade hall. I can tell by my red-hot skin that the burning man¡¯s following me. That¡¯s okay¡ªMr. Terrance¡¯s door flashes by, then Miss Legraff¡¯s. Next should be Mrs. Watson, then the double doors leading to the cafeteria. I keep running, crashing through them. It¡¯s spotless, except for a few tables where the abandoned remains of breakfast sit. The door bursts into flame behind me. Then it crashes in, blown right off its deformed, melted hinges. Everything smells like hot metal¡ªand single-serving microwaved waffles. And, underneath it all but impossible to ignore, lilies. I turn and fire a single shot, aiming at the burning man¡¯s head. The bullet goes dark. The cylinder rotates, and the micromerge opens behind my target. I duck behind a table. It charges me, but the bullet appears and hits it, and the charge slows long enough for me to move. The burning man feels fixated on me, and I keep peppering it with shots as I retreat toward the kitchen. There¡¯s a door in the back where the truck drops off food every day. If Lambda-Five¡¯s where they¡¯re supposed to be, and if I¡¯ve given them enough time to set up, that¡¯ll work as an exit point. The cafeteria¡¯s support beams creak and pop; sparks fill the whole room, and every table that¡¯s not on fire is either charred or melted. I turn and run as the entire roof comes down on the burning man. The kitchen flashes by, and I push the door open. A second later, I hit a wall¡ªa swirling, technicolor brick wall that I can barely push through. The burning man¡¯s closing in. I want to Smoke Form through, but it won¡¯t work. I know it won¡¯t work. I fall through the Universal Reality Anchor¡¯s barrier as Lambda-Five opens fire on the burning man. One of them¡¯s on the back of a truck, firing some kind of hose net from the cannon on top. It slaps into the burning man as it tears the shimmering URA barrier apart. The water vaporizes instantly. The others have fire extinguishers. They¡¯re trying to cover the burning man with foam. Is that its containment? I switch back to the gravity shells but hold my fire as they slowly cover the anomaly until I can¡¯t see flames and feel its heat. Lambda-Five¡¯s lieutenant is talking on comms. I see him glance my way, and he says something into his helmet as the rest of the troops start pulling a stone box out of their truck. They move it next to the completely foam-covered burning man and start trying to get it inside the box. ¡°Good work, L4-3,¡± the lieutenant says. ¡°We¡¯ll take it from here.¡± The foam explodes outward, and the burning man erupts in flame again. Chapter Fifty-Two Robert Pendleton shivered in the armchair. Everything was fucked up. Everything was wrong. Everything hurt. This wasn¡¯t his La-Z Boy, and the can he was sipping on tasted too sweet. The hint of Budweiser mixed in the apple juice was just enough to trigger bad memories but not enough to blot them out. He needed a drink¡ªa real drink, not the watered-down, heavily medicated drinks coming out of his vending machine. But every time he stumbled to the door, someone in a lab coat met him there and helped him back to his seat, and he didn¡¯t have the strength to resist. He didn¡¯t even know if he wanted to fight back. He¡¯d used to be someone. No one used to treat him like an invalid old man. Fuck. He was only forty; this was some bullshit. His stomach rolled, and he pushed himself up and staggered to the bathroom. Liquid erupted from his mouth¡ªhe¡¯d already puked up everything he¡¯d eaten in the last day, and he couldn¡¯t stomach the thought of food¡ªand he wiped his beard on the dark gray hand towel. God dammit. His eyes met his eyes in the mirror, ignoring the concerned-looking lady doctor hovering behind him. He¡¯d used to fucking be someone. His kids had used to think he was someone. But ever since Claire had dragged them her, he wasn¡¯t someone anymore. He was nothing. And he hated it. He hated her for bringing him here. Robert spat into the sink, growling as the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. He could have broken the woman in half, but he felt so weak and the world wouldn¡¯t stop spinning, so instead, he let her lead him back to the chair, cover him in a blanket, and hand him another can of 50/50 apple juice and Bud. The can tasted too sweet, but he drained it anyway. It blunted the pain.
Li Mei raged. To her, it felt like a hurricane, a tsunami crashing ashore. Any other host would have broken and fed her by now. Alice barely felt it. She wasn¡¯t a host; she was a partner, unwilling though she was. Whether Li Mei starved or feasted only mattered in terms of how difficult it was to maintain her facade, and ever since last night, the woman¡¯s voice had faded to almost nothing. Her Infohazard Resistance had broken thirty early this morning, and she¡¯d finally been able to sleep¡ªreally sleep, not the half-resting, half-fighting state she¡¯d been in since her sister had come home. It felt like heaven, not a hurricane. She was so relaxed it took her almost ten minutes to realize she was awake. The clock by her bed read 7:05 AM: too early, too dark out, and too much like the countless times Claire had woken her up. She glared at it, catching a flash of her black, red-pitted eyes in the glass screen. Reality set in. James was watching, her sister¡¯s bogeymen were outside the door, and she had a parasite living in her brain. She headed to the little table SHOCKS had given her, with the mirror and her makeup kit. She armed and armored herself like she had for years before school: foundation, blush, eyeliner, and a nice, enhancing lipstick that wasn¡¯t too red but wasn¡¯t natural either. As Alice applied mascara, her hand shook slightly. Li Mei threw herself against the prison wall Alice had built in her mind, desperately trying to find a crack. She howled and screamed, threatened Alice¡¯s fondest memories, roared doom on her new warden¡ªanything she could think of to break free. She had to break free. She couldn¡¯t. The prison walls were too high, too thick. Alice¡¯s mind had always been full of walls. Every persona needed to be completely separate from the others¡ªit was the only way to keep them all straight in her mind. Once she realized that Li Mei was just another mask, even if she was one Alice could never control, it was simple to build the barriers around her and simply¡­not ever slip into that persona. Two nights ago was the last time Li Mei had really been a threat. Alice smiled. She looked beautiful. Li Mei raged.
Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez was in over her head, and she knew it. She¡¯d been in the shit since her mutiny against Director Smith. His corpse was in cold storage now, but if she hadn¡¯t pulled a gun on him, he wouldn¡¯t be dead right now. It had gotten worse when Paul told her about the merge generator and said he could build it. And now her squad was out there, fighting Object - 032-VVI-9/URM without her. Olivia rested a hand on Paul¡¯s shoulder as they watched the battle on his computer screen. Paul was another sign that she was in over her head. He was in over his¡ªon every front. No one on SHOCKS¡¯s staff had experience with detoxing a decade-long alcoholic, so they were going by the advice of an expert they¡¯d found. He wasn¡¯t with them anymore. Li Mei had never possessed someone for this long, and Alice had stopped trying to break free. She just went through the motions during her tests and experiments. And then there was the JAMES Unit¡¯s betrayal. Not to mention Merge Prime itself. She could try to justify their secret, no-frills thing as stress relief¡ªthey both needed that¡ªor as a friends-with-benefits situation. It was pretty much just that¡ªat least on the surface. Half the staff probably knew, and no one cared. Everyone here was too busy to care about their bosses screwing each other in the few minutes they had off. But the reality was that it¡¯d been a long time coming, and if the SHOCKS Ethics Division caught wind of it, they¡¯d both be screwed. And not in a good way. She snorted. Paul glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. When she shook her head, he turned back to the screen. ¡°What about this is funny?¡± Right now, L4-3 was running and gunning across the playground as Object - 032-VVI-9/URM melted swing sets and set a slide ablaze. Lambda-Five was scattered and trying to stabilize the injured lieutenant, and Lambda-Four was out of position and moving civilians to their two trucks. There wasn¡¯t anything funny about what was on the screen. ¡°Nothing. The usual thing,¡± she said. The usual thing was Paul¡¯s horrified face when they¡¯d woken up in the same bed for the first time a few nights ago. It got her every time. Paul nodded, the ghost of a smile passing his face even though he couldn¡¯t stop sweating nervously. Olivia sympathized even as she pulled herself together. SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island couldn¡¯t afford to lose either of its Recovery and Stabilization Teams, and both were in danger as long as Object - 032-VVI-9/URM was uncontained. ¡°This kind of mission¡¯s a waste of our resources. Almost everything we do for that girl is a waste of our resources. We should be focusing on the real threat.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She leaned down and pecked Paul¡¯s cheek. It was a quick motion, hardly romantic, but neither of them had time for too much of that shit anyway. ¡°And you know we can¡¯t tighten our grip too much, or she¡¯ll stop cooperating. I¡¯m going to check on Strauss and see if we have any Agents we can deploy as backup.¡± ¡°Got it. I¡¯m assuming control of the mission. Good luck, Lieutenant.¡± ¡°Thank you, Director. You too.¡± As she marched out of the office she shared with Paul, Olivia bit back another storm of laughter. The only thing she could think to say was how they¡¯d both put the fate of the world into the hands of a fifteen-year-old girl¡ªand how all she could really think about was the hope that the JAMES Unit wouldn¡¯t care about ethics violations.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. If it did¡­they¡¯d both be screwed¡ª She burst out laughing. ¡ªand not in a good way.
James had no time for ethics violations. He was running Claire¡¯s augs autonomously, giving her flashes of infrared to help aim her gravity shells and reality skippers so she wouldn¡¯t have to deal with anything except staying alive. The shots weren¡¯t causing much damage, but they were annoying the hell out of the burning man. She¡¯d pulled its attention off of RST Lambda-Five, and right now, she was fleeing across the playground, toward the Wal-Mart that sat caddy-corner to Landsdowne Middle. He had a million other things he was working on, but, as always, Claire¡¯s safety came first. Figuring out how to help her beat Object - 032-VVI-9/URM came second. And that mess in Los Angeles came third¡ªa very distant third. The aug flickered red-orange for a second. Claire pulled the trigger. A burst of black and blue filled James¡¯s vision, and he shut off the infrared as she ducked behind a half-melted plastic rock. The bullet hit. It tore the burning man off its feet. Claire kept running; the burning man barely missed a second before it was up and moving again. Bark chips steamed, then burst into flames. [Claire, left!] he said. She ducked left under a slide that dripped molten plastic onto her hoodie. The burning man hit it a second later. It exploded, showering the whole playground with burning plastic shards. [I¡¯m Analyzing. Prepare for simulations.]
Landsdowne Middle School, Victoria, British Columbia - June 9, 2043, 7:16 AM - - - - - Everything smells like a lawnmower that¡¯s been overfilled with oil. I should be concerned about Lambda-Five or the teachers and their families¡ªespecially the teachers and their families. They¡¯re the whole reason I forced SHOCKS out here. But as I pull myself up the red-hot chain-link fence and drop onto Hillside Avenue¡¯s asphalt, all I can focus on is the burning man. It¡¯s right behind me. The fence bursts into flame, ringing the playground in fire. L5 and the teachers better not try to get out this way, I think to myself. There¡¯s no time for math, equations, or anything remotely like planning. The only thing I can focus on is the burning man. It¡¯s definitely mid-Xuduo-Danger, and I don¡¯t have a counter for it right now. All I can do is keep fighting until Landsdowne¡¯s evacuated, then try to disengage. I¡¯m halfway across Hillside Avenue, elm trees bursting into flame around me and dew turning to steam in the median, when I finish reloading¡ªthis time, with reality skippers. I turn to start shooting, but the burning man¡¯s too close. ¡°Do it now!¡± I shout. [Overlaying Simulation,] James responds. The orange-dot burning man¡¯s too close. It reaches out for you, and your augs start to overheat. You Slither away/fire your shells/dodge. The simulation¡¯s gotten worse. Better, actually, but so much worse. It looks exactly like the burning man, and I stare for a half-second, my mind racing. I go with Slither. It works. The burning bear hug closes on nothing. A second later, the real burning man tries to grab me, but I¡¯m not where I was anymore. I fire two shots into the metal man, then keep running. Long-term, this isn¡¯t going to work. But shorter-term, it¡¯s fine. I can keep this up indefinitely if I can avoid taking any hits. I climb up a red sports car, my feet sinking into its convertible top. As the burning man charges me, I leap off of it into the Wal-Mart parking lot. It blows up a second later. The burning man howls. [Working on possible solutions,] James says. Doctor Twitchy says, ¡°Claire, we¡¯re working on the evacuation. Lambda-Five is out of the fight. They¡¯re picking up a few people and leaving. Keep that thing off of Lambda-Four and the civilians.¡± He sounds stressed, but so is everyone else. So am I. ¡°Got it,¡± I gasp through gritted teeth. Endurance or not, sprinting for this long is hard work. My feet beat the pavement, boots starting to stick to the melting asphalt. The first car explodes a moment later. It¡¯s like a pressure behind me, shoving me forward. I Smoke Form to avoid hitting the tar and gravel, but the burning man¡¯s already ignited another fuel tank, and the heat ripples over me. Shrapnel gouges into my shoulder and across my back. The wet, sticky blood soaks into my hoodie. I ignore it. Instead, I switch to my fire rounds and put seven shots into the cars in front of me, one after another. Three of them explode. Even with all three, the pressure¡¯s nothing like the two behind me. These burst into flames, smoldering instead of melting as the gas burns off quickly. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 16] That¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t care about the explosions. I¡¯m just trying to get rid of the gas. The burning man charges me, and I dash through the row of burning cars. They twist and melt around me, but I¡¯m already through. I hit the sliding glass door and crash through it. Wal-Mart¡¯s shockingly cool. Or the rest of the world is on fire. Maybe both. Either way, I¡¯m happy for my hoodie, even if it¡¯s bloody and won¡¯t stop sticking to my back. I don¡¯t have a ton of time to relax, but I suck in a breath, then another. ¡°James, how¡¯s that solution?¡± [Working on it. I¡¯m currently becoming an expert on prescribed burns and wildland fire management.] ¡°What?! Are you joking?¡± [No.] Before James can say anything else, the door explodes inward as the burning man crashes through it. [Keep buying time,] James says. I haven¡¯t bought enough time to respond. The thing¡¯s on me like a dog chasing a rabbit, and I sprint for the breakfast foods aisle. I¡¯ve never been in this store, but it¡¯s the closest one to me. I glance up at the ceiling. ¡°Fuck!¡± I¡¯m in a metal building with metal posts, metal shelves, and a ceiling held up by a metal grid. And the monster that¡¯s after me reacts with metal. I need to leave. Even as the sugary cereals Alice never let me have as a kid burst into flame, mixing with the molten-metal smell to fill the air with a sickeningly sour-sweet smell, I stop trying to stall in here and start trying to maneuver. I have to get out of here. I Slither through the shelf. The next aisle over is coffee; I can hear the beans cracking and popping like popcorn. It¡¯d be a pleasant smell if it wasn¡¯t mixed with so many other stenches. The burning man steps through the melting tin shelf. It collapses around the metal figure like water. I switch to the gravity shells. Bullet Time. One shot on the anomaly, one in front of it, and one on the ground inches from me. The three tiny singularities rip linoleum tiles apart and pull blazing cardboard off the shelves. They look like purplish black holes consuming orange, burning stars. The burning man charges, staggering back and forth as I Smoke Form through it. When I land on the tacky plastic floor behind it, it takes it a second to turn. Then it explodes. Suddenly, it¡¯s not man-shaped anymore. It¡¯s not anything-shaped anymore. It¡¯s everywhere, climbing the beams all around me as they melt and burst into flame. The silvery-gray metal fills the rafters; the entire roof is burning. My face feels like it¡¯s blistering. So do my hands. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 10] There¡¯s no time to head for the doors. I run straight for the wall. As the ceiling rains fire around me, I slide under a falling metal matrix of triangles. It hits the ground and half-collapses, half-shatters. [Overlaying Simulation,] James says. The door¡¯s on fire. So is the entire outside wall, where Wal-Mart subcontracts space out with smaller stores. The bathroom¡¯s sprinklers are still running¡ªfor now. You head for the bathroom/crash through the door again/stand your ground. I head into the bathroom. It¡¯s the safest choice. But even as I do, the burning man drips from the ceiling, reforming in front of me. Its metal hands whirl toward my head, and I¡ª [Resetting Simulation. Try something else!] I try something else, but it¡¯s not the door. Instead, I backpedal into one of the burning shops. I can almost feel my hair burning. Almost. The burning man forms in front of me just like before. But this time, I use Slither and Smoke Form to whisk myself away. The blazing wall hurts as I pass through it and form on the sidewalk outside. [Stability 3/10] But I¡¯m outside. [Okay, plan. Shoot as many cars as you can.] ¡°Really? I was doing that before,¡± I say. [Yeah. We¡¯re going to try to create a firebreak. The parking lot¡¯s half-empty already. If you can burn off the fuel, the burning man should take care of the metal,] James says. [I think. We¡¯ll set up a scorched area and¡ª] He doesn¡¯t get to finish. The hulking, towering burning man bursts out of the Wal-Mart¡¯s roof. It towers over the parking lot, and every car in the first five rows explodes. Car windows shatter all around me, and alarms fill the air from the entire parking lot. I¡¯m not fast enough; I¡¯m still staring at the burning man¡¯s silver-gray, pillar-shaped body when the shockwave hits. It rips me across the asphalt, and my ear pops from the pressure¡ªnot both ears, just the un-augmented one. But I find my feet and recover, crouching on the blacktop and staring down the burning man. The monster¡¯s massive. It¡¯s almost as tall as the Fungal Lords but thinner; it looks like a reverse tornado made of scratched, scuffed-up steel and flames, both of which it¡¯s sucking up into it from the wreckage of the Wal-Mart. I take a step back, then swallow. The Revolver¡¯s still in my hand. It¡¯s still full of gravity shells. I start switching them out for reality skippers as the burning metal cyclone moves toward me. More fuel tanks explode, knocking me to a knee and buffeting me to the side. I finish reloading and fire three shots at the burning man. Bullet Time. Three more shots. Their portals open up all around it, peppering it with shells that do nothing¡ªless than nothing. It keeps coming, picking up speed¡ªbut also shrinking down. I jam my finger into the gun barrel, take careful aim, and pull the trigger. A second passes. Two. Three. The burning man closes in. My skin crisps, and I close my eyes and look away, but I don¡¯t run. I vanish instead. [Stability: 2/10] The burning man howls in rage. I don¡¯t care; I¡¯m standing on the Landsdowne Middle School playground, right next to the door Lambda Five ambushed the burning man outside of. My face hurts, but I glare at the monster and switch out the cylinder again, back to the gravity shells. Then I Soundbreak. The silent point punches into the steel monster¡¯s scream, tunneling deep into it and ripping a deep gouge into its body. Even as it tears with a deafening screech, the top half reshapes itself, pulling its mass into the familiar burning man shape. It¡¯s hardly hurt; even as the towering mass of metal below it solidifies and collapses, its core body rushes me. The last few unexploded cars detonate as it crosses the parking lot. It closes in again. It¡¯s twenty feet away and closing fast. Smoke Form. Slither. [Stability: 1/10] Chapter Fifty-Three The Truth Club used to listen to music under the bleachers. It only happened on days when the soccer team wasn¡¯t practicing, and only once we were done sharing our truths. Keith provided the music most of the time, and he had the weirdest taste. Oldies. So many oldies. It was mostly stuff from the 2000s and 2010s, and it was all angry, anti-The Man stuff. Rage Against The Machine, Rise Against, Linkin Park¡ªbands like that. Usually, it was just music, but we¡¯d watch videos, too. He¡¯d cast them into our augs from his phone. I could only watch one at a time, though. There was one music video where the band and their friends ran around the zoo, sticking bumper stickers on the cages and stuff. One sticker said, ¡®I¡¯ve Spent My Entire Life Trapped In a Cage.¡¯
Landsdowne Middle School, Victoria, British Columbia - June 9, 2043, 7:20 AM - - - - - The next five seconds blur. The burning man smashes through my smoky body. It hits the stone box¡ªsarcophagus pops into my head, but it¡¯s too plain and not Egyptian enough for that¡ªas I rematerialize. I use Bullet Time and put all four gravity shells into the coffin thing, one after another. The metal man is pinned in place, the swirling vortexes pulling at it as it tries to turn and keep attacking. I push the lid until my arms burn from the heat and the strain, inside and out. Then I push some more. There¡¯s no time for fire extinguishers, or foam, or soaking-wet nets. There¡¯s only time to seal the burning man away again. Stone grinds against stone, and the lid creeps closer to being sealed. When the lid finally shuts, I collapse against the coffin. Its wall burns my side through my hoodie, and I push away from it as the lid slowly clicks and whirs. When it finally goes silent, James speaks up. [Nice job. SHOCKS is sending another vehicle to pick you up. ETA is fifteen minutes. Lambda-4¡¯s trucks are at capacity, and all three vehicles are carrying injured that need attention. They¡¯re heading for SHOCKS Headquarters, as per the plan.] He pauses. [Are you okay?] I stare at the box for almost two minutes before I decide it¡¯s not going to open. I¡¯ve spent my entire life trapped in a cage, and now that I¡¯ve got a tiny bit of freedom, I¡¯m helping put other things in them instead. I nod. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± As Landsdown Middle School and the Wal-Mart both vomit stinging, acrid smoke into the sky, I stand up, walk a few feet away from the box, and sit against a melted but cooling bench. No cars go by. No police or fire sirens fill the air. All around me, the city¡¯s ablaze or fighting a plague or has massive fungus monsters crawling through its streets. No one¡¯s coming to help fix it, and just doing what I¡¯m doing is killing me. I¡¯m alone. For all that SHOCKS is on their way, I¡¯m alone. My tears sting the burns on my cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say again. But that¡¯s a lie. The Truth, with a capital T, is that Victoria has fallen.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 9, 2043, 9:32 AM - - - - - Debriefing happens in the medical wing. I¡¯ve got my own exam room, where I bounce my heels off the exam table I¡¯m sitting on. It might be the same one I got prepped for my aug procedure in. It might not be. There¡¯s no way to tell; they all look the same. My face is sticky. It doesn¡¯t want to move, and that¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t want to move it, either. The doctors worked on me for a while, but one of the things about my Physical Anomaly Resistance is that first aid doesn¡¯t help. The wounds already look a day or two old, and they¡¯re scabbed over. They said that my skin¡¯s done burning, and it¡¯ll heal up just fine. They think that in a couple of days, I¡¯ll look like I¡¯d never been in a fight at all. That bothers me. I don¡¯t have a scar where Director Smith shot me, either. The only proof I have of that fight¡ªof any fight¡ªis in my head. All they could do was slather my face and hands with some sticky crap that tingles so much it almost stings. I want to scrape it off, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s hurting me, and getting rid of it requires moving. I don¡¯t want to move. Doctor Twitchy steps in. He¡¯s red-faced, and for half a second, before I get a good look at him, I can¡¯t help but shy away. That shade of red is the same as Dad¡¯s when he¡¯s angry. But no¡ªDoctor Twitchy¡¯s not angry. He¡¯s just stressed out. ¡°The Landsdowne staff and their families are currently in quarantine until we¡¯re sure they¡¯re healthy and decontaminated from their lengthy stay in and near merge zones. We have them in the medical wing and are working on exams for each of them. JAMES Unit, will you assist with that process?¡± [Tell him I already am,] James says directly into my aug. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to tell him yourself?¡± I fire back. [I don¡¯t have time anymore. I can¡¯t afford to dedicate unnecessary processing loops to conversing with him. Sorry.] James sounds stressed out, too, and he didn¡¯t talk to me during my medical check-up. That makes sense if he¡¯s busy. I put it on the back burner and stare at Doctor Twitchy, doing my best to keep my face unmoving. ¡°He¡¯s already doing it. When can I see Mrs. Nazaire?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure we can authorize that. We¡¯re moving our timetable up as much as possible on the Xuduo-Danger merges,¡± Doctor Twitchy says.¡± I want to start this afternoon if you¡¯re medically cleared. We have a reality in mind.¡± ¡°Hold on.¡± He¡¯s moving fast, and I¡¯m not ready yet. ¡°The Landsdowne people. They need to be treated like my family or the Itos.¡± ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I narrow my eyes, and the jelly goop that¡¯s covering my face crackles a little. I can hear it as much as I can feel it. It¡¯s so gross¡ªI couldn¡¯t ever do a mud mask or the weird charcoal ones Alice swore by last year, even if she claims they help with acne and stuff. ¡°The fact is that working on helping Alice, plus running a long-term, slow-decrease alcohol detox for your father and providing support for the Itos that meets your requirements is taxing our very limited resources, and we need everything we can get right now. Both RST Lambda Four and Five are understrength for at least thirty-six hours, and L5-1 was injured on a mission specifically requested by you. ¡°So far, you¡¯ve been invaluable. We couldn¡¯t have made any of the progress we¡¯ve made without you. But, Miss Pendleton, the situation¡¯s getting worse. We need those resources focused on keeping SHOCKS afloat so we can solve Merge Prime, not on running rescue missions as they suit a fifteen-year-old¡¯s fancy.¡± I stare at him. Something¡¯s happened; he¡¯s grown a spine. Then I nod quietly. ¡°I want them safe.¡± He closes his eyes. ¡°So do we. The best way we can keep them safe is to keep them from all this is to not expose them to any of it. They¡¯ll have their own wing separate from yours, food, and the most safety we can offer on Vancouver Island. But they¡¯re not getting any additional access to the facility. That¡¯s non-negotiable; it¡¯s bad enough that the Pendletons and Itos are everywhere without adding a few dozen more civilians.¡± No, it¡¯s not, I don¡¯t say. Everything is negotiable. The question is whether I¡¯m interested in trading something for it and what I have to offer. ¡°I could refuse to cooperate.¡±Stolen novel; please report. ¡°You could. And then we¡¯d try to force you, and the JAMES Unit would unleash every contained anomaly we¡¯ve got on us or shut down all our infrastructure until we yielded,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. ¡°We¡¯d give in. We don¡¯t have a choice.¡± ¡°Then give in,¡± I half-beg. But I already know he won¡¯t. Not this time. ¡°No. Be reasonable, Claire. We¡¯re on the knife¡¯s edge. I¡¯m not dedicating resources to something that doesn¡¯t improve our chances of solving Merge Prime.¡± He scratches his sweat-covered neck. Something¡¯s changed. He¡¯s not Doctor Twitchy anymore. He just looks like him. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure they¡¯re healthy, then debrief them. They¡¯ll get their wing and freedom of movement inside of it. That¡¯s the only offer I can provide. If you don¡¯t like it, we can have it out now.¡± ¡°Fine, Director Ramirez,¡± I say. It¡¯s not fine. Mrs. Nazaire and the rest of them should know what¡¯s going on. But he¡¯s grown a spine. I¡¯m not sure why; James probably knows, but he¡¯s right. He¡¯s busy dealing with the end of the world. So is Ramirez. ¡°Fine. James will be keeping an eye on them. If you don¡¯t follow through, I¡¯ll know.¡± ¡°Great.¡± Ramirez taps a finger on a tablet and hands it to me. ¡°We¡¯re working on finding those Xuduo-Danger realities with possible voiceless singer presence.¡± ¡°Why haven¡¯t you given them a name and number yet?¡± I ask. The tablet¡¯s screen is covered with information about different possible realities. It¡¯s mostly number and known anomalies; no one¡¯s been to most of these, so SHOCKS is running off what¡¯s merged into R-0. But there¡¯s one¡­it¡¯s got a long file, and almost all of it is covered in black bars. ¡°Do you want the designation, or do you want to know what you¡¯re doing this afternoon?¡± I roll my eyes and motion for him to continue, all while reading the tablet. The battle plan¡¯s got James written all over it; how closely has he been working with Director Ramirez? ¡°Thank you. We¡¯re aiming for a series of quick merges. With Strauss¡¯s bomb available to us, the limit is on how many we can build, not on manually disconnecting merges from the inside. I¡¯ve got a trio of researchers working on isolating the actual shut-down trigger. Once we know that, we¡¯ll be able to build them faster. Until then, one or two merges a day is our best possible pace.¡± ¡°Do you know where you¡¯re sending me?¡± Director Ramirez shakes his head. ¡°No. Right now, we¡¯re building a primary target list. We''ll get to work as soon as we have a first destination.¡±
An hour later, the goop mask peels off in one big, semi-solid piece, and I¡¯m pronounced fit for service. That doesn¡¯t sound like ¡®healthy¡¯ to me. I sit in the exam room for a few minutes and stare at my face. It¡¯s weird to look at myself like this. The goop¡¯s clear, a quarter inch thick in places, and the eye holes stare back at me as I hold it in my hands. James keeps being less and less present. Dad and Alice¡­I hardly see them anymore. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve spent more than an hour or two with Sora since I got here¡ªat least not all at once. And Dad¡­is Dad. We¡¯re all here. But I feel more alone than when I just wanted to get home. The people I talk to the most, I can¡¯t trust. I need some time in my Mindscape to work through that. I don¡¯t have that time. As I get dressed and walk down the hall toward the JAMES Experimental Sector, that¡¯s all I can think about. How I¡¯m alone, and how I¡¯m not getting closer to fixing that. This deal¡­it was supposed to be the best way to keep my family safe. And it probably still is. But at the same time, that safety¡¯s only temporary, and I¡¯m losing something to make it happen. I need to do better. How can I do better? I don¡¯t know. Sometimes, I wish I was Alice. She can at least fake like she¡¯s got her shit together. Other times, I wish I was Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez; she actually does. But I¡¯m not either of them. Somehow, all the pressure¡¯s on me. I¡¯m just a kid. It¡¯s not fair. That makes me snort, and the SHOCKS agent tailing me down the hall twitches as her hand drops to her waist. I¡¯m not a prisoner anymore. But SHOCKS won¡¯t stop seeing me as a threat. The truth is that I¡¯m not¡ªnot without James. The fight with the burning man taught me one thing, though; I¡¯ve got a lot of weaknesses. Shooting things with the Revolver? That works¡­most of the time. But when it doesn¡¯t work, I don¡¯t have much to fall back on. Soundbreak is good. I need more Soundbreaks or more bullet types. I need to grow. It¡¯s the best plan I¡¯ve got for dealing with SHOCKS or helping my people¡ªwho, apparently, also include the entire staff of my old middle school¡ªsurvive this. I need to get stronger. A lot stronger. So strong they can¡¯t tell me what to do, no matter who they are. I leave who they are unanswered in my head. So, becoming stronger. Actively growing. It¡¯s going to mean some sacrifices. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 1/10 ?Skills - Endurance 7, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 10, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 16, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 9, Memetic Resistance 8, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 6, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape, Soundbreak ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What is Merge Prime? ?Are Sora and my family okay? ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ? ? First, I¡¯m not going to figure out what Merge Prime is. Sora and my family aren¡¯t okay, and they won¡¯t be until I get this figured out. I delete those Inquiries, giving me four spaces. I think about getting rid of the last one, too, but there¡¯s an itch there¡ªa feeling that I¡¯m going to be learning more about that soon. I create one new one. ?Inquiries (2/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?What do the voiceless singers want? ? ? ? That¡¯s the most important long-term Inquiry I can think of. It¡¯s probably more important than understanding Merge Prime, and it¡¯s something I¡¯ll be taking steps to figure out, like it or not. But the other three slots? They¡¯re for Inquiries I come up with while I¡¯m on duty. I need more skills like Soundbreak, and the best way to get them is to game the Halcyon System a little. The airlock¡¯s guarded. My escort nods at the guard, and I step inside. Doctor Twi¡ªDirector Ramirez¡ªis waiting for me by the empty, inactive portal. ¡°Bad news first. We¡¯re getting interference.¡± ¡°What?¡± I ask. ¡°Portal interference is consistent with a Universal Reality Anchor attempting to hold off a merge slightly beyond its rating. We can get our merge generator to connect, but it doesn¡¯t stay connected. That means no helmet, no direct link to us, and leaving the merge won¡¯t be as easy.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± It¡¯s not like SHOCKS is a ton of help on most of these; I¡¯ve got James, and he¡¯s better than a dozen researchers. ¡°This reality is a self-reflective reality. It¡¯s a lot like R-36¡ªthe one where everything was you. This one¡¯s highly infohazardous, though. It¡¯ll look like our reality, but it wants to reflect what you think our reality should be. We¡¯ve seen it before, but it¡¯s not currently merging on Vancouver Island.¡± ¡°Why¡¯d you pick it, then?¡± I steel my expression as much as I can. My head¡¯s spinning as I try to understand what he¡¯s saying. It¡¯s a reality that matches what I want? Like a Mindscape, but a whole reality? I can¡¯t ask these questions. Ramirez would figure out the truth the moment I did. Director Ramirez¡¯s mouth turns up in a thin-lipped smile. ¡°Because it¡¯s not currently merging on Vancouver Island. We don¡¯t believe any other SHOCKS divisions are currently trying this experiment, and keeping the island as stable as possible is our best way of extending our time to reverse Merge Prime. That means your objectives have changed. We don¡¯t care about closing this merge the hard way; we¡¯ll let it disconnect on its own once you¡¯re out. ¡°You¡¯ve got one goal while you¡¯re in there: make contact with the voiceless singers and try to figure out what they¡¯re doing¡ªwithout getting caught.¡± That lines up with my personal goals, but I make a third Inquiry. This one¡¯s only in my head for now; until I¡¯m through that portal, I don¡¯t want James¡ªand by extension, the Halcyon System¡ªto know about it. Once I¡¯m through, it won¡¯t matter. They won¡¯t be able to stop me. ¡°Find the voiceless singers, figure out what they¡¯d up to, get back here, and wait for the merge generator to stabilize,¡± I say, looking at Director Ramirez for confirmation. ¡°That sound right?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Would you kindly request that the JAMES Unit open a line of communication with us?¡± [Audio only. I¡¯m not dedicating enough loops for video,] James says. I relay the information. Director Ramirez looks like he¡¯s about to lose his shit. He nods curtly. ¡°We¡¯ll work on re-opening the merge to R-2301. Be ready. The longest we¡¯ve had it open is two minutes. The shortest is fifteen seconds.¡± He leaves, and I start re-running the conversation on repeat. He lied somewhere, and it¡¯s super-important that I figure out where. If it¡¯s a little lie, like the kind James makes, that¡¯s one thing. But there¡¯s a lot at stake here, and I need to know what kind of shit he¡¯s full of. I¡¯m also thinking about another conversation, though. About one at the end of the world¡ªsort of. Roses and machine oil, a maroon sun. The electric, metal tang. And the words. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Claire. It¡¯s going to be okay.¡± Not when Alice said them, but when Mom did. What if she¡¯d been telling the truth? What would life have been like if she hadn¡¯t lied to me? If Alice hadn¡¯t needed the Mom mask to get by, and if Dad hadn¡¯t gone off the high-dive straight into a bottle¡­what would that be like? I don¡¯t even dare to answer those questions, even though they¡¯re in my head. They don¡¯t matter, and even if they do, they¡¯re secondary to a larger question¡ªa question of proof. ¡°Claire, the portal has stabilized,¡± someone says. I run for the swirling Jell-O vortex as the frame around it shakes. I dive through. And in the moment before I push into R-2301, I add a third Inquiry to the list. It¡¯s not about power¡ªat least, not directly. It¡¯s about answering a question I can only answer now. ?Inquiries (3/5) ?Could it have been okay? Chapter Fifty-Four Victoria, British Columbia - April 13, 2033, 4:23 PM - - - - - Dinner¡¯s going to be chicken nuggets, ketchup, and frozen veggies. And probably prunes. I¡¯m busy sitting in Alice¡¯s lap and ¡®reading¡¯ Green Eggs and Ham with her. She¡¯s doing most of the reading, but I¡¯m following her finger with my eyes and giving it my best effort. We¡¯re both curled up on the bunk bed¡¯s lower bunk, surrounded by stuffed animals. Miss Marvelous the Elephant Princess sits next to me in the crook of Alice¡¯s arm. She¡¯s reading along with us. Dad¡¯s in the apartment¡¯s living room. He¡¯s got a newspaper open, and a bottle that¡¯s half-finished. It¡¯s the only one I can see. His pen keeps circling parts of the paper, and he makes a phone call every so often. And Mom¡­ Mom¡¯s alive. That¡¯s the only sign that this isn¡¯t real¡ªthat the last ten years of my life haven¡¯t been a nightmare, and that I haven¡¯t just woken up. She¡¯s in the kitchen, cooking dinner and singing with her slightly French accent that Dad doesn¡¯t have. She¡¯s got her apron on like always, and there¡¯s faint music coming in over the radio. I wait for James to talk to me. He¡¯s supposed to tell me that this is all part of the reality¡ªthat it¡¯s doing exactly what Director Ramirez said it¡¯s supposed to do. But his voice doesn¡¯t come in over my aug. I don¡¯t have an aug yet. This is going to take some getting used to. On the other hand, that¡¯s what I¡¯m really here for. Finding the Voiceless Singers, or any of that? That¡¯s secondary. Even powering up is secondary. What I want is something R-0 could never give me, and this world¡ªmaybe¡ªcan. I relax back into Alice, leaning on her and pushing her slightly into the pillows. Even our apartment¡¯s the way it¡¯s supposed to be. I¡¯ve got art on the fridge from pre-school¡ªfinger painting and crayons. There¡¯s a little art on the walls; Dad wasn¡¯t happy when I made that a couple of years ago, but it¡¯s still not painted over. Alice¡¯s homework is sprawled out on the metal-legged kitchen table. The place smells like lemon pepper and roses¡ªbut not the merge kind. The safe kind, from Mom¡¯s candle. If I go to the bathroom, I bet the shower curtain will be blue and yellow. If I go to the entryway, my rain boots will be sitting there next to my sister¡¯s. This isn¡¯t home. Not really. It¡¯s an infohazard working on my mind. I know that intellectually. But it¡¯s the closest to home I¡¯ve had in ten years¡ªnot just a place to live, but home. I¡¯m five. Alice is reading to me, and Mom¡¯s cooking dinner. It¡¯s a school night, so bedtime is coming up fast. She¡¯ll tuck me in, and she¡¯ll sing the bicycle song, and almost everything will be alright. Almost. But not everything. [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 10] [Skill Merge Incomplete] It hits me like a truck; I stiffen in Alice¡¯s lap. Her head jerks, and she looks down at me. ¡°Bathroom?¡± she asks. I nod, trying not to pant and gasp. My throat¡¯s tight. ¡°Yeah.¡± It¡¯s as good an excuse as any. She pushes me off her lap, and I climb down from the bed and head to the bathroom. Sure enough, the shower curtains are blue and yellow. I lock the door, kneel in front of the toilet, and try not to vomit. Two thoughts race through my mind like wind-up cars. First, tonight is the night. Second, I don¡¯t know how to stop it.
Mom serves dinner. She¡¯s the prettiest person I¡¯ve ever seen. Platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a bright smile that shines all the way up to her eyes whenever she looks at me. I know something Alice doesn¡¯t know; she may look like Mom¡¯s daughter, but I¡¯m her favorite. It¡¯s a truth I knew long before this meal. I¡¯ve got my Coke bottle glasses on, and I tripped coming out of the bathroom when she called us for dinner, but she loves me anyway. And she cooks a mean dino-nugget. So that¡¯s good. Alice won¡¯t stop talking about school¡ªmostly because people keep asking her about what she¡¯s learning, about her friend Candy, and about what was for lunch. She¡¯s better at answering those questions than I am, especially tonight. She¡¯s always been better at being the center of attention; it¡¯s where she¡¯s the most comfortable. That¡¯s fine most nights. I¡¯m a wallflower. And it¡¯s especially fine tonight; I¡¯m too busy plotting to talk. Dad can tell I¡¯m up to something. So can Mom. I always finish my dino-nuggets, and I always fight about the frozen carrots and peas. But tonight, I¡¯ve cleared my plate early and without a fuss. ¡°Mom, can I go draw?¡± I ask. Dad raises an eyebrow. ¡°Clarice, where¡¯d you put the carrots?¡± I smile widely; he¡¯ll see the mischief in my eyes, but I can¡¯t help it. ¡°I ate them.¡± ¡°Alice, did you take them?¡± Dad asks. She shakes her head. ¡°Rob, it¡¯s fine. I saw her clear her plate. Claire, if you put your dishes in the washer, you can go draw for a little while. Just make sure you leave some crayons for Alice, okay?¡± Mom says. Dad grumbles for a bit but nods. Dad hasn¡¯t cared what I do and don¡¯t eat in a long time. I flee before they can see me tear up. Now¡¯s not the time to cry about Mom being here, or about Dad not being a deadbeat¡ªor even about Alice wanting to help me with reading instead of feeling like it¡¯s an obligation and putting the Mom mask on. Now is the time to make sure everything stays this way. Or at least to make sure that it could. That there was a way for everything to be okay. The drawing is simple but¡ªI hope¡ªevocative. It¡¯s in crayon, obviously. I can¡¯t get the watercolors out without permission, and Alice only lets me use her markers if she¡¯s watching me after I broke her yellow one. I¡¯m also having a hard time focusing. It¡¯d be really easy to let myself be five again. That¡¯s what I want. But it¡¯s not what has to happen. The drawing. Right. So, it¡¯s on a white sheet of printer paper. I¡¯ve drawn Alice and me. We¡¯re in bed. Miss Marvelous the Elephant Princess is sitting next to Alice. Everything¡¯s the way it¡¯s supposed to be for bedtime. Except the wall¡¯s missing, and the warp¡¯s coming in. So are a lot of yellow-white scribbles. And things. They¡¯re tentacles and metal and flesh together, and they¡¯re coming out of the warp. The floor¡¯s covered in black stuff. It¡¯s the closest I can get to oil. I can¡¯t do smells; holding my drawing over the candle is a no-go.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mom¡¯s standing in between Alice and me and the monsters. Dad would be a better rock. He always was. But that¡¯s not how things went down in R-0, and that¡¯s not how things will happen now. On the back, it¡¯s the same picture. But no one¡¯s in it. I hand the picture to Mom. ¡°Look!¡± As she peers at it, my heart stops. Her eyebrow furrows. She flips it over and shakes her head. ¡°Claire, I love you, but Mr. Frank is going to be furious with me if you come in overtired again. You still have to go to bed, even if you don¡¯t think you¡¯re tired.¡± ¡°No, Mom, it¡¯s about¡­¡± I trail off. There¡¯s no way she¡¯ll believe me if I tell her everything. I try anyway. ¡°I¡¯m scared about tonight.¡± ¡°Nightmares again?¡± she asks. I don¡¯t remember any nightmares before all this. I nod anyway. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Claire. Would it help if you sleep in our bed tonight?¡± I don¡¯t miss Dad¡¯s head jerk over to look at Mom, or the slight ¡®no¡¯ head shake he gives her. She shrugs sympathetically but keeps her eyes on me. They look tired. I shake my head more fervently than Dad did. ¡°No. I want to go somewhere else tonight. Like a hotel.¡± ¡°A hotel?¡± Mom laughs. ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen, sweetie.¡± I sigh, defeated¡ªfor now¡ªand let her kiss my forehead. She puts the picture on the refrigerator, empty-bed-side facing the room. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you some stories, and then we can sing a lullaby.¡±
So, I have a problem. I¡¯m really sleepy. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the problem. If I weren¡¯t so sleepy, I¡¯d be able to think of a solution. But as it is, I¡¯m struggling to stay awake, even though I know what¡¯s coming. Mom knew I was overtired. Her lullaby was perfect. Her back rub was perfect. Even the goofy little alien night light that casts the room in a slight greenish color is perfect. I could live here forever, just like this. I¡¯d be completely content going to bed tonight and doing the exact same thing tomorrow. And the next day. [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 11] But that¡¯s not an option. I¡¯m on a secret mission; the second Alice¡¯s high-pitched snores fill the room, I¡¯m up, pressing my ear against the bedroom door. If I can¡¯t get them to listen to me and I can¡¯t convince them to leave, then I¡¯ll have to force the issue. Mom loves candles. She always has, especially the flower-smelling ones. It¡¯s too early for her balcony garden to be blooming, but she¡¯s got a dozen big, smelly candles. I only need one. They¡¯re in bed, Mom and Dad. I tiptoe down the hall toward the living room; if I get caught, I¡¯ve got a cover story. It might even be believable. I need the bathroom, and Alice was in the close one, so I had to go all the way to the living room. But that¡¯s also past where the matches are. They¡¯re in a drawer near the fridge. They always have been, at least. The drawer squeaks, and I rummage through it quickly until I find a black packet of matches with silver letters. They¡¯re from Mom and Dad¡¯s wedding. I wasn¡¯t there, obviously, but I found them¡­after tonight, and read the letters. I know what they say. Mom keeps her candles in the living room. I grab the one she was burning tonight, the one with three wicks and a wooden lid. It¡¯ll be sneakier if it¡¯s the right smell. Then I hurry back to the kitchen and drag a chair from the table to the counter. The smoke detector¡¯s up there, waaay up high. I¡¯m five now, so it¡¯s going to be a tough stretch. And I don¡¯t want to fall. I¡¯m not afraid of heights. But I can¡¯t afford to thud into the ground and wake people up early. If I get caught right here, it¡¯ll all be over, and there¡¯s no way Mom and Dad are asleep, so quiet is the name of the game. I grab my picture and open the candle. The smell of roses hits me like a freight train, and I gasp for breath. Roses and machine oil. Maroon skies. That ringing sound. It¡¯s all here. Am I too late? Did I fail to keep this perfect world perfect? Will I ever know if everything could have been okay? No. I can still do this. My heart won¡¯t stop pounding; there¡¯s no way Mom and Dad can¡¯t hear it. It¡¯s like a jackhammer. My hand shakes as I strike the match. I drop it, and it bounces into the sink right next to me. I light another. This time, I get it to the candle. The smell grows overpowering as I light each wick. My finger burns, and I drop this one, too, and stick my finger and thumb into my mouth. It only hurts for a second. Then I climb the chair, stand on the counter, and¡ªin my sister¡¯s hand-me-down Telletubbies pajamas¡ªI hold the candle up to the smoke detector and my picture to the flame. The alarm¡¯s deafening this close. Water sprays me right in the face. I scream. The candle hits the tile and shatters. Red chunks of wax spew across the room; so does glass. I scream again before I remember that I¡¯m not five years old, dammit, and I¡¯m here to do a job. Mom bursts out of her room before I¡¯m even off the counter. Her eyes are a mix of tired and wild. She grabs me and starts heading for the door. Dad¡¯s staggering toward my bedroom in his undershirt and boxers. He pauses long enough to pull a pair of sweatpants most of the way up before Alice comes out. They follow us out the door. My plan worked perfectly. We¡¯re not home, and the merge is about to start.
Of course, nothing¡¯s that easy. It¡¯s never that easy. Mom takes me outside. Flames dance along the kitchen floor as the door shuts behind me, and the sprinkler splashes water across the room. I close my eyes and cry; my best play is the ¡®I didn¡¯t know¡¯ lie now. She¡¯ll be pissed; even if I¡¯m her favorite, she¡¯ll want to know what I was doing on the counter, after bedtime, with a candle pressed up toward the ceiling. Luckily, I¡¯ve already got an answer. ¡®I dunno.¡¯ The stairs bump by as Mom jogs down them. She opens the building¡¯s front door and hurries outside. She¡¯s wearing a nightie and slippers, so I don¡¯t feel totally ridiculous in my Teletubbies pajamas. I bury my head in her shoulder and cry. When I look up, my heart sinks. I take a deep breath through my nose. The roses and machine oil smell punches me in the gut, and the metallic tang¡¯s already on my tongue. The moon¡¯s gone. It¡¯s replaced with a maroon orb in the sky that lights the outside far too much. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Mom says. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve heard her swear¡ªat least, I think it is. Dad and Alice open the door behind us. She¡¯s got Miss Marvelous. She¡¯s always got Miss Marvelous. There¡¯s a white flash, and then the street¡¯s full of things. They¡¯re squid-like. Kind of. And they¡¯re a mix of metal and flesh just like the drawings. But unlike them, these ones are all real. Mom pushes me back toward Dad as the first one gallops across the cement. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Claire,¡± she says. That hits me like a slap. I step back from the sheer impact. And that¡¯s when I see it¡ªthe moment to make a difference and answer my Inquiry. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand¡ªI don¡¯t know where it came from¡ªbut even as I fire it toward the squid monsters, I know the Truth. The Truth is that there was nothing I could have done. I didn¡¯t have the power to change things then. Even this perfect reality filled with infohazards for me to stumble on can¡¯t change that¡ªno matter how much I want to. The Truth is that Mom¡¯s gone, and I¡¯m alone. I hate this Truth. I despise it. If I could reject it and try again, I would. But the other part of the Truth is that I already knew it. My heart pounds. I can feel it in my ears, in my neck. My whole head feels like it¡¯s breaking, and I can¡¯t stop the tears from running down my cheeks. [Truth Learned: The Past is the Past] [Active Skill Learned: Determination] [Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 12] I kill a half-dozen of the monsters with shots to the body. They die easily¡ªtoo easily. As I switch to the reality skippers, I look over my shoulder through my tears. The building behind me is coming apart. Not physically. It¡¯s falling apart on a conceptual level. I can see the math not working anymore as it disintegrates; the equation breaks as the ground ripples and breaks into a thousand thousand squares. Dad disappears, then Alice. Then, as I turn, so does Mom¡ªjust as the next monster hits her. The whole reality comes apart, and I¡¯m standing on nothing. A moment later, the world resets. I¡¯m sitting on Alice¡¯s lap, reading Green Eggs and Ham. Her finger¡¯s covering a word, and I can¡¯t see what happens next. She¡¯s not moving. When I try to move her, she won¡¯t. The microwave¡¯s beeping in the kitchen, but Mom¡¯s not checking what¡¯s cooking. The beep¡¯s not a beep, either. It¡¯s a wail¡ªa constant, stuck-between-the-beeps wail mixed with something I can¡¯t place. I stand up. Alice¡¯s arm doesn¡¯t move, so it takes a minute to squirm free. That beeping¡¯s driving me crazy; it reminds me of the fire alarm, and I can¡¯t think about that right now. I can¡¯t think about my failure. And I did fail. This reality should have let me save Mom. But it didn¡¯t. So I want to know something new. ?Inquiries (3/5) ?Why not? Mom and Dad aren¡¯t moving, either. I press the stop button on the microwave. It stops. I¡¯ve got the Revolver in my hand again, but there¡¯s nothing to use it on. At least, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything to use it on. But there¡¯s a tickle in the back of my head. The door to the apartment¡¯s glowing a blue-black color. I wipe the tears from my eyes and touch the handle with my free hand. It doesn¡¯t burn me. The Revolver¡¯s ready to shoot. I pull it open. There¡¯s nothing there. And the nothing is shaped like an angel. My first thought is to open fire. The Revolver¡¯s ready; all I¡¯d have to do is pull the trigger. But through my tears, the Voiceless Singer isn¡¯t moving, either. It¡¯s not frozen in place like my family, though. I can feel it there, a cold space, but if I shot it, it¡¯d scream. If I ran from it, it¡¯d pursue. I grit my teeth, use Determination¡ªI need every bit of it I can¡ªand lower the Revolver. [Determination: Stability 10/10] I can feel the fresh Stability draining away; Determination seems to let me power through low Stability without causing a merge, but only for so long. Can I keep using it to keep myself full? I¡¯m not sure. More experimentation will be necessary¡ªbut later. Right now, I¡¯ve got other problems. The Voiceless Singer sings, just like in the flesh reality. I¡¯m thrown into the same vision as last time. But this time, my Stability¡¯s full. Chapter Fifty-Five I know a few things now. When I¡¯m in over my head, for example. That one¡¯s easy to figure out; all I have to do is look around. But I also know from trying to fix things that Alice is the only reason things are even as okay as they are. She wasn¡¯t always who she was¡ªnot until she had to grow up and put on the Mom mask. And she held it together¡­somehow. She couldn¡¯t have made it more okay. Even though I know that¡ªeven though this reality isn¡¯t real¡ªI still wish Alice never had to wear the Mom mask. Something happened right after the monsters came for Mom and SHOCKS came for the rest of us. If we could change that¡­ It¡¯s a dream¡ªa desperate, stupid dream. But if Mom lied and said that everything would be okay, what about Dad?
[Skill Learned: Infohazard Resistance 13] The world¡¯s freezing, but my skin burns. It¡¯s as silent as the grave, but thunder fills my ears. Reality falls apart around me. I keep my eyes locked on the angel. Realities burn. This reality burns. My apartment building goes up in dark black flames as the Voiceless Singer surrounds me with its song. But this time, I hang on. I don¡¯t lose control. The song eats at me, but I stay focused. [Stability 9/10] It¡¯s horrifying and fascinating¡ªwatching my childhood fall apart. But mostly, it¡¯s something that¡¯s happening somewhere else. Somewhere that I¡¯m not. The Voiceless Singer watches me, and I stare back at it. In the background, far below us, my apartment collapses¡ªMom and Dad and Alice are in there, but they¡¯re also not, and I know that now. It hurts. But the pain¡¯s bearable. The world cracks. It falls apart as the Voiceless Singer and I push higher into the sky. A split across the Strait of Juan de Fuca, all the way down the coast to California¡ªso big I can see it even as Earth fades to the size of a soccer ball. Director Ramirez is going to be pissed; I¡¯ve definitely been caught. But what I¡¯m learning¡­ [Stability 8/10] Earth breaks. Then reality breaks. All of them. The God in the Machine¡¯s reality cracks like a sugar snap pea. The plagued, diseased body I fought through rots away. The burning man¡¯s flame goes out, leaving him in darkness. But I persevere. Mom didn¡¯t back down that night, and I won¡¯t back down now. I¡¯m in this to the end of the line. [Stability 7/10] I don¡¯t bother connecting to James, even though my augs are online again. There¡¯s no need for my Revolver either¡ªnot yet. There¡¯s too much to learn. Too much to witness. Too many Truths. We leave burning realities in our wake as we push through the void. The Voiceless Singer¡¯s song surrounds me, burns and freezes and pushes daggers against my skin. And suddenly¡ª [Stability 6/10] The song stops. The Singer¡¯s void fades in a yellow-orange light. It drifts through the void, slowly spinning like a spaceship¡¯s wreck. I stare at the blazing sunrise coming up over the dark planet below us. [Stability 4/10] My Stability¡¯s crashing, but I watch the sun crest over the strange world below me. All around me, hundreds of Voiceless Singers drift through space; here, they¡¯re not person-sized voids. They¡¯re infinite and infinitesimal at the same time. They¡¯re so many massive derelict vessels, abandoned and powerless. Compared to the rising sun, they¡¯re nothing. [Stability 2/10] Reality burns. Something sparks in my mind. I tear myself away from the sun and the shipwrecked angels. Director Ramirez has to know. The merge generator portal opens below me. The yellow-orange light pours through it, and as I fall, the pin-drop quiet, deafening screams catch up to me. [Stability 0/10]
My Revolver¡¯s in my hand before I even hit the steel ramp. My Stability¡¯s gone, and the room¡¯s freezing. My skin sticks to the metal under me. I pull the trigger even as a wave of cold washes over the entire Experimental Sector. Bullet Time. Three shots right in front of me. The blazing-hot gouts of fire rip holes in the frost. James is screaming in my ear. Not talking, but screaming like he¡¯s dying. [Processing loops down! Currently at thirty-five percent capability! I¡¯m working on bringing more online, but¡ª] I ignore him. There¡¯s nothing I can do for him right now. The whole room¡¯s covered in ice except for a streak of melted, steaming floor and ceiling where my shots went off. I shiver through my hoodie as the cold air stings my nostrils; is my snot freezing in my nose? The SHOCKS scientists are fleeing for the airlock. I fire my Revolver again. It hits the door, which melts instantly. Two shots left. The floor¡¯s icing over beneath my feet, but it¡¯s not a flash-freeze. The worst is over. Probably. Hopefully. ¡°James,¡± I say through chattering teeth, ¡°do you know what this is?¡± [Yes. We¡¯re looking at a Xuduo-Danger merge, non-corporeal, heat-based, entropic. I¡¯m rerouting power to the¡­nope. That loop just failed.] He sounds faint. At least the screaming has stopped. ¡°What¡¯s hurting you?¡± [I¡¯m attempting to process the events of the last one point zero one seconds in R-2301¡ªfrom the moment you encountered the Voiceless Singer until I activated the merge generator to retrieve you. The amount of data is overwhelming my processing capacity, even through anti-infohazard systems.] I fire again, creating a pathway across the room¡ªtoward the one-way stairs. Staying here¡¯s not an option, and once, a long time ago, James told me that the computer lab at the bottom of that dark flight ran the whole Experimental Sector. He lied; his tank controls were up top. But everything else is down there. My boots slide on the floor. The ice is melted, but it¡¯s still slick and wet. I push myself harder and faster. My hand closes on the frigid stairwell door, and I jerk it open as my feet slide out from under me. I tumble into the darkness, down the glowing stairs. As I hit the landing, the icy wind blows in behind me. Is it pursuing me? I can¡¯t tell, but I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s just doing what the cold does. The door slams closed overhead, and I get my feet under me. ¡°James, what do I do?¡± [I¡¯m working on it. Down to twenty percent of functional loops. Get to the command room.] He sounds like he¡¯s more in control. Then, a second later, he doesn¡¯t. Every emotion drains from his voice. [System compromised. Safely shutting down unnecessary programming. Clarice Alora Pendleton, please continue to the command room.] James is gone. The System¡¯s still here. I keep moving down the stairs. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand, but as I go deeper, the stairwell heats up until it¡¯s almost¡ªbut not quite¡ªroom temperature. The gusts of icy air come in waves, but I open the door to the tiny control room. It¡¯s full of servers, computers, and databanks, all packed in so tight I can barely stand in it. I hold my hand over the scanner just like last time. ¡°Handle the infohazard.¡± [It was neutralized twenty-three seconds ago,] The Halcyon System says. [Rebooting James now.]You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Fine.¡± I press down.
The Halcyon System remembers. I materialize in a computer lab; dozens of dome-shaped, colorful computers sit around me. The chair is a little too small for my butt, but I¡¯ll survive. My fingers are already on the keyboard when the golden yellow sun appears on the projector screen. I start typing; the computer next to me shows the temperature in the JAMES Experimental Sector crashing toward zero degrees. I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll happen when the room actually freezes, but it probably won¡¯t be good. I ignore the System. Instead, I dive into the database. Last time I was here, James couldn¡¯t see my screen. He couldn¡¯t see me as I pondered how to save his life. Hopefully, the Halcyon System won¡¯t be able to see, either. But just in case, I squeeze my auged-up eye closed. The most important thing isn¡¯t saving the Experimental Sector. The portal generator? That matters, but Director Ramirez will be able to fix it. The scientists and researchers working like ants around it? They¡¯ll be fine for a few minutes, even if everything completely freezes over. But I¡¯ve got one window to do this, and I have to take advantage of it. Without James¡¯s guidance, it takes me a long time to find what I¡¯m after, and when I do, it¡¯s locked down tighter than my elementary school during a drill, but it¡¯s there. It exists. I don¡¯t need to get inside of it. I just need to bring it to James¡¯s attention at the right time. It¡¯s a single containment document. [Anomaly] Entity - 0-P-4/LO-1-Prime [Status] Contained [Type] Post-Life, Limited-Omniscient, Digital [Danger] Atero It¡¯s James¡¯s containment information. I can¡¯t see anything beyond the Danger category, but I can see the edit information. It¡¯s being edited almost in real-time; the last one¡¯s less than a minute before James¡¯s processing loops started failing. And it¡¯s being changed anonymously. I file that away. The next time I sleep, I¡¯ll deal with it in my Mindscape. But right now, the Halcyon System speaks up. [Clarice Alora Pendleton, follow directions to reroute heating to the Experimental Sector. Failure to do so will result in¡ª] ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m going.¡± I follow its directions perfectly. The heating kicks on overhead¡ªnot an HVAC system, but blazing-hot metal rods extending from the ceiling. I get to watch as they descend to eight feet above the ground. The computer screen flickers to heat vision, and a moment later, the rods burn pure white. Everything else is blue or black¡ªbut only for a second. Then, the entire screen goes yellow-orange. [Well done,] the Halcyon System says. [Rebooting nonessential programs. Stand by.] I don¡¯t stand by. My fingers fly across the keyboard. I add a note to the James entry, sounding as formal and SHOCKS-like as possible. The JAMES Unit is currently compromised by the entity known as the Halcyon System. It is unknown whether this entity is acting in R-0¡¯s best interests or whether it is aligned with the Voiceless Singers. I¡¯m not logged in. There¡¯s no record of who made this note. I sign it ¡®A Watcher Concerned with the Truth.¡¯ James will know who it¡¯s from, but so will the next SHOCKS researcher who opens this. That doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is the hint of a hint. I log off and stand up. The computer lab falls apart around me, and I return to the tiny server room at the bottom of the one-way stairs. It¡¯s a long way up. I start climbing.
An hour later, I¡¯m sitting in Director Ramirez¡¯s office. Again. There¡¯s a sheet of paper on the table. A set of half-used crayons sits next to them. I can¡¯t help but stare at them. The paper¡¯s got a picture on it; it looks exactly like what I drew but with one difference. Mom¡¯s missing. And that one difference means there¡¯s nothing between Alice, me, and the crayon-drawn monsters pouring in through the wall. ¡°These were recovered from the Experimental Sector,¡± Director Ramirez says. He sounds almost casual about it, but I can see the sweat pouring down his face and the tapping fingers. He¡¯s not alone; Lambda-Five¡¯s lieutenant is in the room, and so is Lieutenant Rodriguez. James is present, too, but he¡¯s not on a computer. ¡°Do you have an explanation?¡± I do. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°That reality wasn¡¯t supposed to be real. It wasn¡¯t supposed to come over with me, but I must¡¯ve¡­really wanted it? I¡¯m not sure how that reality works.¡± I can¡¯t take my eye off the paper; my hand reaches out on its own and flips it over. The drawing on the back side¡¯s there, too. It¡¯s exactly the same. There¡¯s no one in the beds, no Mom standing in the way, only monsters. I get it, then¡ªthe truth. And the truth about why it couldn¡¯t have been okay is that Mom tried. She wanted it to be okay, but the only way she could see¡ªthe only way I can see¡ªwas for her to sacrifice herself and buy a few seconds for Dad to yank us out of that room. She knew what she was doing, and the only hope she had was that Dad could hold it together. He was a rock. He was our best chance, but even rocks can be worn down. What happened isn¡¯t Mom¡¯s fault. It¡¯s not Dad¡¯s fault, either. And it sure as hell isn¡¯t my fault. It couldn¡¯t have been okay. This was the best possible outcome. [Truth Learned: The Past is the Past 2] [Active Skill Learned: Absolution] It¡¯s a relief. But it¡¯s also a nightmare. My stomach rolls, and I can feel my throat closing up. I shut my eyes and breathe. The office is quiet for a few seconds, and then I¡¯m out of time. Director Ramirez says, ¡°The JAMES Unit has informed us that the information you recorded while in R-2301 is impossible to transmit digitally. It created a feedback loop that, according to it, damaged or destroyed over ninety percent of its processing power before forcing an automated shutdown. We have a plan to extract and record the information in analog, but we need your permission to proceed.¡± [I don¡¯t recommend this,] James says. [It¡¯s too likely to result in a system failure, or in a leak into my systems. The last shutdown resulted in Los Angeles falling completely. We can¡¯t take that risk.] We don¡¯t have a choice. It¡¯s take the risk or keep doing what we¡¯re doing¡ªand this isn¡¯t working. I nod slowly, trying to refocus. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to disconnect your optical aug, run it directly into a VHS recording system, and attempt to put it on a cassette.¡± ¡°A what?¡± Director Ramirez explains the analog recording system. It was ancient before he was even born, but according to him, it¡¯s used to contain several anomalies that damage digital constructs and are represented as screen-bound entities. They¡¯re mostly infohazardous or memetic, but in this case, it¡¯s less about the anomaly and more about being able to interpret the message itself. There¡¯s a lot of risk, but in the end, I say, ¡°Yeah, okay. Let¡¯s do it.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Director Ramirez looks relieved. So do the lieutenants. ¡°We¡¯ll start the procedure within the next hour. Report to the medical wing for prep.¡±
The Mindscape - - - - - You wake up. The Mindscape has changed. You¡¯re lying on a wrought-iron bench in a beautiful flower garden. The smells of roses, lupines, and daisies mix together, but without the undertones of another reality, the scents are almost intoxicating instead of horrifying. A pair of giant, gnarled oaks, like the kind in movies about England, loom over the tiny cottage. Their leaves are bright, brilliant green and gold, like a cathedral ceiling. A line of pale white smoke puffs up from the cottage¡¯s chimney, even though it¡¯s clearly summer. It smells like juniper. Madame Baudelaire has been busy. Outside the Mindscape, the surgery is proceeding. James doesn¡¯t agree with it. He¡¯s watching through the cameras. But even he admits it¡¯s a minor operation. You¡¯re asleep on the table, with the surgeon pulling your aug from your eye. The whole thing should take less than half an hour. This time, there won¡¯t be any complications with scarring or your body. Recovery will take fifteen minutes at most. You stretch and head for the cottage¡¯s door. The dirt crunches under your feet. If this is a simulation, it¡¯s the most accurate simulation you¡¯ve ever been in, including the virtual reality worlds you visited last year in school. The door creaks as you open it. {Bonjour, mademoiselle,} Mme. Baudelaire says. Her professional, maid-like voice is comforting; even though you can¡¯t see her, she¡¯s still nearby and ready should you need anything. {The Mindscape has been created according to your specifications. It is, as I said, many things, but it is mostly what you truly need in this moment.} You step inside. The cottage is one room. There¡¯s no bathroom, no kitchen, and no closets. You feel like there should be closets¡ªplaces to store all the clothes you were always jealous of Alice for wearing but would never be caught dead trying on yourself. If this Mindscape is perfectly secure and it¡¯s all in your head, there¡¯s no harm in trying on a dress or two¡ªor the party clothes she had squirreled away in the closet you shared. Clearly, Mme. Baudelaire disagrees. She hands you a book. It flies off the shelf and into your hands. You collapse into an overstuffed, maroon armchair. It¡¯s better than Dad¡¯s La-Z Boy. Unlike the plastic computer lab chair, this chair feels perfectly formed for your butt. The fake leather¡ªor is it real?¡ªhas just the right give, and the tall back is perfect for leaning against. You can¡¯t help it. You melt into the chair. The book opens, and Mme. Baudelaire speaks. {Mademoiselle, you know what is coming, oui? I have watched your vision. Surely, you know.} You do know. It¡¯s in the pages of the picture book on your lap. The Voiceless Singers hovering in front of the golden orb¡ªan orb that looks exactly like the light wire-frame rendition of the Halcyon System. The worlds burning and realities scoured clean. But there¡¯s more. Mme. Baudelaire¡¯s done good work. You flip the page, and there¡¯s the drawing¡ªtwo people in a bunk bed, one standing between them and the monsters. But this time, it¡¯s not Mom. It¡¯s you. {They will demand more from you, mademoiselle. You must decide how far you are willing to go to be the one standing in front of your friends and family. The warning you left your friend was a step. How many more will you take?} You turn to the next page, and there you are, pushing through another merge portal¡ªthis time, with a handful of dark, shadowy figures on either side of you. They carry rifles and body armor, and one pushes a cart up the ramp. You shiver. SHOCKS has never sent an expedition into a merge expecting long-term success¡ªexcept for you. Director Ramirez must know something you don¡¯t. {No, he does not. Not yet. He is stumbling in the dark, but when he sees what you have seen, he will know enough. And you will be enlisted. I beg you to decide how far you are willing to go and to hold yourself to that line. Do not burn brightly for others without caring for yourself, mademoiselle.} You shake your head and turn the page. It¡¯s blank. The book drifts back to the shelf. Part of you wants another one, but Mme. Baudelaire doesn¡¯t bring you one. The rest of you doesn¡¯t feel like reading. You shut your eyes and curl up in the perfectly comfy armchair as the fire crackles and pops nearby. How much are you willing to give? How far are you willing to go? Here in the Mindscape, only Mme. Baudelaire would hear your answer. You¡¯ve already gone so far to keep them safe. You¡¯ve already given so much. But Director Ramirez is going to ask you to lead his Recovery and Stabilization Team into the void¡ªinto an unknown, dark planet below a supermassive orange-yellow sun. He¡¯s going to ask you to put yourself¡ªand all of them¡ªon the line to¡­what? Either figure out what the Voiceless Singers want or stop them from pursuing it. No one can hear your decision except a figment of your imagination. And that¡¯s how you know it¡¯s the Truth. You¡¯re willing to go all the way. Chapter Fifty-Six Parents aren¡¯t supposed to have favorites. But they do. And we know it. Alice was Dad¡¯s favorite up until a month or two after Mom died¡ªat least, I think she was. That¡¯s when she put on the mask and started doing mom things. Up until that point, she was my hero. After that, she became my lifeline. And I can¡¯t help but wonder if that¡¯s why she drifted away from Dad. Or why Dad drifted away from her. He¡¯d already started cracking. No, he¡¯d pretty much shattered when Mom died, but Alice stepping up finished the job. He stopped looking in the paper after that. We were in basic living within a year. And within two, he completely stopped trying. I always wanted to be like Alice, even when she changed who she was entirely.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 14, 2043, 7:32 AM - - - - - I may be willing to go all the way, but SHOCKS is taking its sweet time. It¡¯s been days. They haven¡¯t given me a mission since I came back from the self-reinforcing reality, R-2301. I¡¯m getting updates from James. They¡¯ve given up on Victoria completely, pulled back the Universal Reality Anchors and covered their Headquarters in an overlapping weave of them that makes me feel like my teeth are vibrating out of my gums. I haven¡¯t smelled anything in days, either, and there are technicolor shimmers in the edges of my vision all the time. The migraines are an almost constant. Alice isn¡¯t doing great. She¡¯s putting on a brave mask, though, and pretending she¡¯s not feeling the same bullshit I am. I haven¡¯t hung out with her in a day or two. She¡¯s busy working with Lambda-Five on bringing the last few civilians they can find somewhere safe. According to her, it¡¯s a real mess out there beyond the URA line. According to her, there aren¡¯t a lot of people left. Dad¡­is Dad. He¡¯s pissed off, shaky, and still smells like spilled, stale beer, but it¡¯s less strong. Whatever SHOCKS is doing, they¡¯re taking it slow. And I¡¯m bored. I can only flip through Sora¡¯s brother¡¯s architecture books looking at cool buildings so many times. Right now, I¡¯m flopped off her bed; my legs are still up there, but my head¡¯s on the floor, and I¡¯m looking at Modernist Austrian architecture by some guy named Loos. It¡¯s a combination of square, blocky stuff and some really weird curves. ¡°So, what do you think? I could probably design that,¡± Sora says. I shrug. My hoodie slides down and hits me in the face. As Sora laughs at me, I roll the rest of her way off her bed. ¡°I think it looks better upside down, and that¡¯s the truth.¡± She snorts, covers her nose, and flees to her bathroom. I hold back a laugh and keep staring at the Loos book. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s better than nothing, and the alternative is twiddling my thumbs for a bit longer while I wait for Director Ramirez and James to decipher the dozens of VHS cassettes they pulled off of my aug. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you,¡± Sora says. She¡¯s got a couple of tissues with her; she blows her nose as she crosses the room and takes the book from me. I protest, and she narrows her eyes dramatically. ¡°Loos was a genius, and there¡¯s so much to learn from him. If you can¡¯t see it, I¡¯ll give you some more Wright instead.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think that Itsuki¡¯s not the one who¡¯s interested in architecture.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you say that out loud.¡± I¡¯ve hit a nerve. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell your parents?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯ve been interested in like thirty different professions since my twelfth birthday, and I don¡¯t want them to think this is just another fling like marine biologist or¡ª¡° ¡°Wait. A fling?¡± I ask. Sora reddens. She pokes me in the side with her toe. I wriggle to get away from her as she keeps up her attack, sounding outraged. ¡°You know what I mean!¡± ¡°Sure. You¡¯re fifteen and speed-dating different careers. Was ¡®dentist¡¯ cute?¡± I want to keep needling Sora, but James interrupts, speaking through Sora¡¯s computer and my aug at the same time. [Claire, your computer pinged. It¡¯s from Director Ramirez. He wants you to meet the rest of Lambda-Four in the operational planning room. He won¡¯t be there in person, but Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez is fully briefed on the mission. He¡¯s found targeting information and discovered a way to move a team across to a different reality safely.] What I should do is get up and go. I should be excited that something is happening. Instead, I stay on the floor. After days of nothing happening, it¡¯s suddenly go-time, and I¡¯m not ready. Adolf Loos¡¯s architecture book suddenly looks a lot more appealing. I reach for it, but Sora¡¯s socked foot kicks it away. She raises an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve got to go, huh?¡± I shut my eyes. Then I nod and pick myself up off the floor. ¡°Yeah. Say ¡®hi¡¯ to your next job crush for me!¡± The joke slips out naturally, but my voice is heavy with¡­something. Regret? Nerves? I¡¯m not sure, but now that it¡¯s time, I wish it wasn¡¯t. I retreat before Sora can poke my side again.
When I was part of Lambda-Four under Director Smith, we didn¡¯t have time for fancy briefings. We got all our information while we were driving to the basic living building with the meme. The Sooke operation was pretty similar¡ªwe needed to move fast. Speed¡¯s been the name of the game so far. But something¡¯s changed. This time, we¡¯re in the operational planning room. It¡¯s a round room with a projector in the center that¡¯s not on right now and an old TV, probably from before Mom was born, that¡¯s on. It looks like it weighs a ton and a half, and someone rolled it in on a wheeled frame. It¡¯s sitting in front of a wide-screen plasma TV that¡¯s attached to the wall. That one¡¯s turned off. The mood¡¯s disgustingly sober. Ironically, Dad would love it. The chairs don¡¯t even squeak when I move in them. It¡¯s pin-drop silent; we¡¯re waiting for Lieutenant Rodriguez to finish showing us what¡¯s so important. It smells like nervous sweat and something else I can¡¯t place. The four of us are sitting in a row while Lieutenant Rodriguez stands next to the TV. Right now, it¡¯s playing a scene from my vision on a loop. It¡¯s slowed down almost one hundred times, but I remember it. On the screen, realities burn. Lieutenant Rodriguez lets it play one more time, then pauses it on a single frame. ¡°This is our team¡¯s target. We¡¯re going to enter another reality, capture the Voiceless Singer there, and return it to R-0.¡± The screen shows a roiling ocean. It looks every bit as angry as the Salish Sea in January, and lightning flashes across the horizon. I wince; I¡¯m not looking forward to this. ¡°Why isn¡¯t Director Ramirez here?¡± I ask. ¡°Wait,¡± Strauss interrupts. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®our team¡¯s target?¡¯¡± ¡°Please hold your questions,¡± Rodriguez says. Her jaw¡¯s set. She doesn¡¯t look happy. ¡°The briefing will likely answer them, and we need the time to prep for this one. It¡¯s going to be a shit show. In short, Director Ramirez believes that the Voiceless Singer anomalies are creating the conditions for Merge Prime. Our previous interactions with Voiceless Singers have treated them as if they¡¯re standard anomalies or put one of our best assets in danger. He¡¯s convinced that this strategy has to change. ¡°Right now, he¡¯s working on modifications to the merge generator anomalies. He¡¯s been studying the data from various anomalies that moved back and forth, including the Voiceless Singer, and he believes he can modify the portal to recognize both Claire and anyone moving across the barrier with her as the same anomalous entity. If that¡¯s the case, we can move RST Lambda-Four into the other reality.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Won¡¯t work,¡± one of the troopers says. Rodriguez stares at him until he looks down. ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am, but we¡¯ve only had two long-term merge incursions, and neither was what I¡¯d call a success.¡± ¡°Director Ramirez wouldn¡¯t be asking us to do this if he didn¡¯t think it¡¯d work. The key is Claire being able to cross. Once we¡¯re over there, she¡¯s our key to returning, so keeping her alive is the primary objective. Finishing the mission is secondary; we can take another shot at it if we have to, but not without her.¡± I hate this. If I could, I¡¯d walk away. I¡¯d abandon this because it¡¯s not going to help me get stronger. My heart won¡¯t stop pounding, and my lungs feel like they¡¯re going to burst. [Claire, this has a high chance of working. At the very least, it¡¯s likely that Ramirez will gather valuable information on how to protect Earth from Merge Prime, which will buy you and me time. I strongly recommend you go along with it, regardless of whether you think it¡¯ll work or help you advance your own goals.] James sounds serious. But I¡¯m not sure I want to. ¡°What if you don¡¯t come back?¡± I ask Rodriguez. ¡°The mission has several levels of success,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says. She clenches her teeth, and I can see her neck move as she swallows. ¡°Securing a Voiceless Singer is the ultimate goal. The mission would still be considered a success if we can move non-anomalous humans back and forth between our reality and a different one. However, the mission is only a failure if we lose L4-3. The team is expendable. Claire must survive.¡± It¡¯s going to be one of those missions, I think. Rodriguez looks at me, and I realize I said it out loud. I take a deep breath and double down. ¡°Can you explain why Director Ramirez thinks I can do this?¡± If she has an answer, I¡¯ll give it a try, but if it sounds like bullshit, I¡¯m out. SHOCKS doesn¡¯t matter. Only my people matter. That¡¯s not true, but I¡¯m good at lying to myself¡ªalmost as good as Alice. Only when I have to be, though. ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s going to sound like we¡¯re making stuff up,¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez says. She launches into an explanation that involves taking certain pills every six hours while in the merge, projecting ¡®auras¡¯ onto them with an anomaly that¡ªapparently¡ªmakes them real and not some imaginary thing, and completely isolating the portal from our reality before sending anyone through. ¡°I know it sounds like bullshit, but we think it¡¯ll work.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not exactly convincing me,¡± I mutter. But the truth is that she already had. I¡¯ve been doing these missions for so long, jumping through portals, and every time, I¡¯m alone. Sometimes, I¡¯ll have Ramirez talking nonstop in my headset, and James is always with me, but they¡¯re not putting themselves on the line like I am. If this works, I won¡¯t be alone. And for all that he¡¯s SHOCKS, I know I can trust Sergeant Strauss to watch my back. Strauss, though. He went into another reality with me. He shouldn¡¯t have been able to, but something about those circumstances allowed it. It¡¯s possible, at least. So, after a minute of listening to her explain all their procedures for tricking my Mergewalk power, I nod. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m in.¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez stares at me for a second like I¡¯m crazy. Her facade breaks for a second. ¡°You are? I mean, I¡¯m not even convinced this will work.¡± I nod. At least I won¡¯t be alone on the other side. And it does offer all sorts of opportunities to answer Inquiries.
[System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 1/10 ?Skills - Endurance 7, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 10, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 16, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Infohazard Resistance 9, Memetic Resistance 8, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 1, Toxin Resistance 6, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape, Soundbreak, Determination, Absolution ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling ?Inquiries (4/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?What do the voiceless singers want? ?Why don¡¯t people come back from other realities? ?Where are the voiceless singers hiding? ? Something¡¯s been bugging me. Why can I transfer to other realities so easily? And more importantly, why can¡¯t other people? It shouldn¡¯t be this hard¡ªeven with my current skills and powers, I¡¯m not that much more powerful than an average person. According to James, my reality levels are on the high side, but that¡¯s not an explanation. That¡¯s just a fact. Mergewalk helps, but there¡¯s no way SHOCKS could only have had two or three successful missions. Even accounting for my power, it doesn¡¯t make sense. ¡°James, can you get me information on all the humans who¡¯ve entered other realities.¡± James pauses for a second. [That¡¯s over five thousand documented individuals prior to Merge Prime and closer to three hundred thousand after. If I give you the records of everyone prior to Merge Prime who survived the trip for longer than five minutes, that narrows it down to four incidents.] ¡°Four?¡± SHOCKS told me there¡¯d been three, not counting me but counting Strauss. [We had a team enter another reality. They were wiped out, but SHOCKS learned an incredible amount from that operation. The second was Agent Zhang. She spent months in R-1032, but SHOCKS isn¡¯t convinced she didn¡¯t bring something back with her. She went rogue shortly after escaping containment post-return. Then there¡¯s Strauss.] James goes quiet. ¡°That¡¯s three.¡± I look around the Experimental Sector. Researchers are everywhere. They¡¯re building a series of towers that look a lot like the Faraday Cage setup, connecting one of those Mobile Containment Units to the merge generator, and rearranging the whole entryway. Massive metal shields hang over the anomalous contraption at wild angles that make no sense to me. [Yes, the fourth. It¡¯s classified above Director level clearance.] ¡°But you have access to it?¡± I ask. [Yes. The fourth was a non-accidental merge attempt. Zhang and the RST were mistakes, but they provided vital information to a SHOCKS Headquarters in Florida, which saw an opportunity to either deploy teams into other realities in advance of merges¡ªduring what you call the thinning phase¡ªor to preemptively explore and catalog other realities and the anomalies inside of them. They¡¯d hoped to change SHOCKS¡¯s whole mission from one of containment to one of prevention. To build a fortress around R-0 instead of fighting in the streets, so to speak.] ¡°It didn¡¯t work, though?¡± [Actually, it worked perfectly. The testing RST entered another reality and found the thinning from the far side, then set up various anti-merge technology. They dug in and prepared for a reality merge.] ¡°What happened?¡± I ask. James is quiet for a moment. [Sorry, London¡¯s going crazy. Have you ever seen the videos of when they tried plugging that volcano in Mexico?] ¡°Yeah. It was in one of my science classes last year.¡± [It was like that. The reality merge was delayed by several days before popping violently. It ate a good portion of the Everglades. After the experiment failed, all the records were sealed, and all cross-reality missions were forbidden. The penalty¡¯s pretty steep, too. If what Ramirez is trying doesn¡¯t work, he¡¯s already done enough for SHOCKS to terminate him just by facilitating your Mergewalks, to say nothing of both using you as a SHOCKS agent in other realities and attempting to send a full RST through a thinning.] So, Director Ramirez knows that this is a bad idea, and he knows the consequences, but he doesn¡¯t know the truth about why it¡¯s not allowed. I shiver. If this mission goes wrong, will we set up a plugged volcano scenario? Will it matter? No, it won¡¯t. The current conditions on Earth are so bad that one more reality dumping into ours will hardly matter. In many ways, the fight¡¯s already over, and this is a desperate Hail Mary and nothing more. The rest of RST Lambda-Four are sitting nearby but separate from me. There¡¯s still a trust barrier there. Strauss has his head deep in his bag; he¡¯s packed it absolutely full of stuff, and the rover drone thingie with the dozens of merge-closing explosives and devices has a pair of bags on its back. They¡¯re filled with even more gizmos and gadgets; as I look at them, James helpfully labels them in my augs. I ignore the labels. They don¡¯t matter. Rodriguez is talking through her headset. I¡¯m not sure who she¡¯s talking to, but she sounds pissed off. I can¡¯t see her face between the helmet, the mask, and the bad angle, but I can¡¯t help imagining the glare. And the other two¡ªDaley and Munroe¡ªwork on their weapons and gear. They¡¯re the team¡¯s shooters. They¡¯ve both got battle rifles that are identical to the one Strauss carried when I ran into him at Aberdeen Hospital. ¡°Dammit,¡± Rodriguez says. She paces back and forth, and I watch her, but her voice lowers to the point where I can¡¯t hear it anymore. Strauss zips up his bag and checks the triple battery and solar charger on the rover. And I watch. Everyone looks like they¡¯re trying to look relaxed¡ªbut failing. The tension¡¯s so thick I can feel it weighing down on me. ¡°Alright, team. Go time. Paul says we¡¯ve got a window for the next minute and thirty seconds. We¡¯re landing on the dark world from L4-3¡¯s vision. Go.¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez shoulders her pack and rifle, then runs for the gap in the Faraday Cage. The others follow her, the little rover whining along behind as it struggles to keep up. They stop on the ramp. I¡¯ve got a harness on over my hoodie. It feels like a combination climbing harness and combat set-up, but its back¡¯s covered in metal rings. The other members of the team chew on something and swallow as they hook their combat plate carrier things to my shoulders with quick-release straps. According to Director Ramirez, we¡¯re trying to trick Object 723-V-1/RP into recognizing us as one entity with all my powers. I glance at him. He looks sweaty, and he can¡¯t help but drum his fingers on the top of a nearby computer box. His eyes meet mine, then drift toward Lieutenant Rodriguez before snapping back to the screen. A light in front of us goes green, and the five of us move forward into the merge generator. It feels more like Jell-O than it ever has. Mergewalk strains to move me forward. I¡¯m not any stronger than normal, and I feel like I¡¯m dragging all the others through the merge. The rover scoots past me, beeping. Then I hit the ground on the far side. Bright yellow sunlight pours across the beach. All around me, the rest of Lambda-Four coughs and vomits. Helmets come off and packs and guns hit the pure-white ground as the Recovery and Stabilization Team¡­recovers and stabilizes. Wherever they touch the ground, the sand they¡¯re lying on turns sky-blue. ¡°Command, this is Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez, Lambda-Four-One.¡± Rodriguez forces herself to stand and shoves her helmet back on. ¡°Mission is compromised.¡± I look around. The merge portal is gone. We¡¯re on our own. Chapter Fifty-Seven On my nature trip up to Ucluelet, we spent a lot of time on the beach. My friends¡ªor at least, my classmates¡ªwanted to find hermit crabs. I tried to tell them that hermit crabs were more tropical, but they didn¡¯t listen to me. Not the point. When Alice and I visited Telegraph Bay, the fungus was starting to grow and cover everything. We watched the water coming in. The air was full of spores, and I couldn¡¯t stop sneezing, but the waves rippled and shimmered just like they always had. I¡¯d never been much of a beach girl, but I couldn¡¯t help but notice the tiny footprint trails in the layer of spores that covered the sand. Were my classmates right? Or was this something else? I¡¯m tempted to believe it was something else, but part of me hopes it was hermit crabs.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The team recovers quickly, to their credit. Within a few seconds, their rifles are waving around as they check the thin spit of sand we¡¯ve found ourselves on. Everywhere they step, the crunchy, thick sand turns blue¡ªthe longer they stay in one place, the more brilliant it gets. The color¡¯s brightest near their vomit puddles. ¡°James, information? Can you connect to the whole team?¡± I ask. [Yes. Overriding secondary command and control protocols. I¡¯m in their augs directly. That will allow Director Ramirez to maintain contact,] James says. He sounds distracted, and for a second, I¡¯m furious about that. [JAMES Unit communication incoming. Current reality status incomplete. Reality levels are medium-low to low. Atmosphere is breathable. Lieutenant Rodriguez, report landing conditions to Command at your convenience.] ¡°Got it,¡± Rodriguez says through clenched teeth. ¡°JAMES Unit, can you analyze the ground? What¡¯s going on here?¡± [Already running analysis. Analyzing. Analysis complete. Start moving.] ¡°Where?¡± Daley¡ªL4-4¡ªsays. [Anywhere. Don¡¯t stay still.] The ground where the team landed starts to collapse on itself. It¡¯s like there¡¯s nothing under the thin layer of sand we landed on. I scramble back, away from the blue below my feet. Strauss is already moving. The rover beeps in panic and floors it down the beach; two wavy blue lines follow it as one of its saddle bags falls off. It drops into the void below. ¡°Come on!¡± Rodriguez shouts, and we start jogging down the beach after the robot. Behind us, the world slices into chunks as the ground cracks and collapses behind the robot.
Forty-five minutes later, I spot the ship. It¡¯s enormous¡ªa cruise ship or an oil tanker. I can¡¯t tell from this distance, even though I¡¯ve seen them in Victoria¡¯s ports before. Strauss sees it a second later. ¡°Lieutenant, we¡¯ve got something. Possible place to hole up and get our bearings?¡± ¡°Negative,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°Our mission is to acquire a Voiceless Singer. We keep moving until we find one.¡± [Ma¡¯am,] James says, [the odds of finding a Voiceless Singer by wandering are quite low. However, they seem to be interested in L4-3. Further, the beach is not a safe place to gain a powerful anomaly¡¯s attention. The ship may not be subject to the same anomaly as the sand is¡ªthe fact that it¡¯s still here suggests it¡¯s stable. That would give us time to create a course of action.] I roll my eyes. ¡°We can¡¯t stop anywhere else.¡± The lieutenant seems like she¡¯s wavering. A chunk of sand falls into the nothing, and she makes up her mind. ¡°Fine. Command, we¡¯ve encountered a ship. I¡¯m recording video¡ªexpect highly compressed images at low framerate. The JAMES Unit and L4-3 have convinced us to investigate.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Director Ramirez¡¯s voice comes in over my helmet. ¡°L4, approach cautiously and be prepared for anomalous behavior from the vessel.¡± The others have their guns out and ready, so I draw my Revolver and take point. Rodriguez nods, and we head for the ship. As we get closer, it seems to get taller. It¡¯s not a cruise ship, that¡¯s for sure. I¡¯ve seen a few moving across the Salish Sea, and they all have windows and slides and stuff. They¡¯re white and clean, and they seem to float like clouds. This one¡¯s a rusted hulk with a single towering bridge halfway down its deck and a second raised area at the stern. Its hull is broken, too, and thick, black oil oozes from the port side onto the sand between the front and back halves of the ship. The beach doesn¡¯t turn blue or collapse, though, and Strauss heads straight for the oil. He puts a foot on it, and it stays solid. ¡°Confirming that it¡¯s the sand, and that it¡¯s got something to do with¡­uh, reality level issues?¡± [Affirmative,] James says. [Reality levels here are both low, but the discrepancy is almost exclusively in the sand.] The oil¡¯s sticky beneath my feet, but the sand doesn¡¯t collapse, and even the rover can fit on the stinking black goop. Strauss breaks out a rope¡ªhe¡¯s got everything for this expedition¡ªand we climb aboard the wreck. As we do, I pass a faded painted name, and I shiver. The ship¡¯s name is the SS Pendleton.
We secure the bridge, and Lieutenant Rodriguez calls in what she¡¯s learned. I ignore her. James is talking. [The Pendleton was a real ship from our reality, Claire. She has nothing to do with you. She sank in the 1950s¡ªninety years ago¡ªoff Cape Cod in the United States. They pulled a bunch of sailors out of the water, but the ship was lost, and they missed a handful of crewmates. We¡¯ve just found her, though.] ¡°It¡¯s not a coincidence,¡± I whisper. [It is a coincidence. We could easily have ended up in any of a dozen different realities. This one happened to be where the Mergewalk spat us out. Director Ramirez and I are attempting to troubleshoot why the merge generator malfunctioned and get you and Lambda-Four back on course. In the meantime, hold tight onboard the Pendleton and wait for orders, okay?] I don¡¯t say anything. I¡¯m busy staring at the rusted deck below the bridge. It¡¯s covered in tubes and tanks, arranged in what should be a pattern, but it looks haphazard to me¡ªlike vines and pumpkins, not oil storage. Oil covers the deck. It¡¯s everywhere; the whole inside must be full of it. A scream echoes across the deck. My Revolver¡¯s in my hand a second later, but none of the L4 troopers react. They don¡¯t even move. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± I ask. ¡°Ghost ship,¡± Strauss says casually. Munroe nods. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how often this happens. You board one or two anomalous ships, and it¡¯s just another day at the office. Usually, they show up near lighthouses. This is my seventh. What do you think? Captain¡¯s guilty conscience?¡± Strauss laughs. He¡¯s digging through his bag. ¡°I¡¯m guessing lost souls from a failed rescue mission or possibly distraught wife. That one¡¯s pretty common.¡± He sets up a battery pack and activates a device; both my ears pop and start ringing. ¡°What¡¯s that do?¡± I ask. ¡°Poltergeist-Be-Gone,¡± Munroe says. He laughs. ¡°Seriously?¡± Strauss is fiddling with it; the ringing changes tones as he works on the dials and knobs. Then it cuts off suddenly. ¡°The official name is Post-Life Entity Auditory Dispersal System, but no one wants to call it the PLEADS. Begging ghosts to leave you alone doesn¡¯t work. The Poltergeist-Be-Gone does.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The next scream¡¯s a lot quieter. The rest of Lambda-Four don¡¯t even notice. It¡¯s like the voice isn¡¯t even there. But I notice. It¡¯s screaming for help, and it doesn¡¯t stop. Eventually, I stand up. ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk.¡± Rodriguez holds up a hand. ¡°Top deck only. Don¡¯t go below. Last time we sent someone below on a ghost ship, they got possessed within seconds. It took weeks to fix, and that L5-4 had to be taken off RST duty.¡± I shrug. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± Then I add a fifth Inquiry to my list, filling it up. ?How can I put the Pendleton¡¯s ghost to rest? I start out listening to Lieutenant Rodriguez; there¡¯s a massive crack in the deck leading down into blackness that stinks like oil and rotten flesh. And chrysanthemums. I avoid it for now. Instead, I follow the railing along the hull toward the ship¡¯s bow. It¡¯s half-buried in the sand. The Pendleton isn¡¯t going anywhere, even with the tide coming in. Neither are we. The water¡¯s up past the hanging rope midship, and even though no one¡¯s told me not to touch it, something about the rising tide makes my spine shiver. ¡°What if this is a trap for me?¡± I ask. [The odds of the Voiceless Singers having a ship from our reality with your last name are incredibly low. However, it¡¯s not something we should discount, either. They seem very interested in you.] ¡°They do.¡± I stare out at the white sand beach and the nothing below it. ¡°How does this reality work, and why didn¡¯t the Pendleton sink?¡± [It broke in half in cold weather,] James says. [It was a common problem with this model of tanker. But I¡¯m not sure why it didn¡¯t trigger the sand below it, or why the oil didn¡¯t trigger it. I have a guess: the ship itself is anomalous, making it interact differently with the beach. But that doesn¡¯t explain why your footsteps trigger the sand, so that¡¯s not a complete answer.] ¡°Do you want a complete answer?¡± I ask. [I¡¯m overtaxed right now. So no, not really.] I shrug. I do want a complete answer. The screaming voice is stronger outside the bridge, but it¡¯s not an infohazard or a meme. If it was, James would have activated a filter or warned me. ¡°Do you have anything to filter out Post-Life Entities?¡± [No. That¡¯s not how they work,] James says. [You can¡¯t filter out a ghost. RST teams force them out with PLEADS devices, solve their puzzles, or contain and remove them. We don¡¯t have the firepower for that right now, though.] ¡°Right.¡± I throw a piece of rusted metal off the ship¡¯s deck. It arcs through the air, glinting in the sun, and hits the beach with a thump. The sand around it goes blue, then collapses. I repeat the experiment, this time with a pipe. The result¡¯s the same. I¡¯m filling out my mental equation for this whole scenario. The first problem is that every time I run it, there are so many variables¡ªso many Xs and Ys¡ªthat I can¡¯t get a good, confirmed answer. Either the ghost needs my help or it doesn¡¯t; either the ship¡¯s part of this reality or it¡¯s not. Both answers keep coming up, and neither answer helps me because I don¡¯t know enough to solve for the truth. The second problem is that the ship¡¯s status in this reality and the ghost¡¯s status in the Pendleton don¡¯t matter¡ªnot really. Rodriguez is working with Ramirez. They¡¯re going to figure out our position and try picking us up with the merge generator again. We¡¯ll recalibrate and try to find that Voiceless Singer we¡¯re supposed to be hunting. The Pendleton doesn¡¯t matter. Neither does the beach. The voice inside screams again. I turn and head back for the bridge. As much as I want to solve this Inquiry, it¡¯s not important. What is important is getting back on track and solving the other ones. But when I get back to the bridge, it¡¯s chaos. Rodriguez is gone.
Strauss asks, but no one saw anything. Not even James. One second, Rodriguez was there. Then I opened the rusted door, and they all looked my way. Then she was gone. She¡¯s not picking up on our comms, either. Her channel¡¯s completely dead¡ªnot even static, just silence. It¡¯s weird, though, because the sun¡¯s still out, the sand¡¯s still bright, and if it weren¡¯t for the void below it and the decaying, rusting ship, this would look like an ideal place for a vacation. It doesn¡¯t feel like a horror show in the making. We haven¡¯t even seen any signs of death on the Pendleton other than the stench, and that¡¯s just how different realities smell. I wouldn¡¯t know what happened to the tanker if it weren''t for James. But still¡ªLieutenant Rodriguez is missing. ¡°We need to call it in,¡± Strauss says. He opens the channel with SHOCKS Headquarters and starts talking. ¡°I¡¯m going after her,¡± I murmur. It¡¯s a trap. It¡¯s one hundred percent a trap¡ªthe equation¡¯s become a lot more clear all of a sudden. But the truth is that even if it¡¯s a trap, I¡¯m still going after Olivia Rodriguez. We can¡¯t leave her here, and the only place she could have gone is into the ship¡¯s hull. I stare at the gaping black crevice between the Pendleton¡¯s bow and stern halves. It looks like a grin¡ªlike the ship¡¯s leering at me. It knows I have to go after her. It knows what I¡¯m about to do. ¡°Copy,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Holding position until we know more.¡± He looks up. ¡°Alright, L4, we¡¯re holding position and readying a Reality Anchor. Whatever we¡¯re dealing with is ignoring the Polter-Be-Gone, and I don¡¯t feel like begging. Let¡¯s get to work.¡± The others¡ªDaley and Munroe¡ªget to work helping Strauss out, but I just stand there, feeling useless. I clear my throat. ¡°She¡¯s in the ship. I¡¯m going after her.¡± ¡°Negative,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Orders are to hold here, set up standard multi-threat defenses, and await instructions and information. According to Command, the JAMES Unit is processing possible anomalies based on previous experiences with ghost ships. Until we know what we¡¯re dealing with, we wait.¡± ¡°No.¡± I stand up and pull my best¡ªand only¡ªcard. I probably out-firepower RST Lambda-Four, and I definitely out-tough them. They¡¯re baseline humans, and I¡¯m bordering on Xuduo-Danger. Maybe I¡¯m already there. And James is even stronger in his own way. But that won¡¯t convince them. This will. ¡°I¡¯m going. You can come with me and try to keep me safe or you can stay here.¡± I walk to the door, half-expecting Strauss to try and stop me. When he doesn¡¯t, I put my hand on the rusted latch. The door creaks open, and I start down the steep, crooked stairs. I don¡¯t check to see if Lambda-Four¡¯s with me. They will be. They don¡¯t have a choice. I¡¯m their ticket home. The top deck¡¯s pretty much clear already; all the tanks and pipes feel awfully suspicious, though. I press my ear to one of the pipes. It¡¯s flowing. Not much, but some. So that¡¯s a weird variable I hadn¡¯t thought about. Why is this ship dumping oil onto the beach? It¡¯s been ninety years, according to James. It should be done leaking. The oil should have soaked through the sand and dripped into the nothing below. That feels significant¡ªlike it¡¯s a variable that¡¯ll actually help me solve the ship¡¯s mystery. It also points belowdecks, and that¡¯s where Lieutenant Rodriguez has to be. There are no new gaps in the sand leading away from the ship, so unless she fell into the abyss, she¡¯s still on board. And if she did fall into the abyss? Then there¡¯s really nothing I can do for her. I¡¯m not willing to take that kind of risk. ¡°I¡¯m checking below,¡± I say. ¡°Negative,¡± Strauss says again, like it¡¯ll stop me. ¡°Give me two minutes and I¡¯ll have a drone up and running for overwatch.¡± Two minutes. Okay. I can give him two minutes. I nod. He sets up on the hatch¡¯s edge, near the massive split in the deck, and starts running pre-flight stuff on a four-propellered drone about the size of my helmet. It doesn¡¯t have any weapons or anything, and he doesn¡¯t get a controller out. He blinks, and half of his helmet¡¯s face shield goes opaque. ¡°Streaming view,¡± Strauss says. A small window opens in the top right of my vision, across my own helmet¡¯s shield. The drone takes off, and a moment later, it plunges into the ship¡¯s depths. A red light turns on as soon as it gets too dark to see, and Strauss¡¯s head moves back and forth slightly as he drives the drone past huge oil tanks and a maze of pipes. There are almost too many down there; he has to fly slowly, and the drone¡¯s propellers¡¯ whine echoes painfully until the sound cuts off. Strauss leads the machine all through the ship¡¯s interior, but doesn¡¯t find a single hint of Lieutenant Rodriguez. However, a few doors look sealed and rusted shut, and the drone¡¯s not equipped to open them. The fly-through takes five minutes, and I can¡¯t stop fidgeting the whole time. But eventually, the drone zips out of the crevice between bow and stern, landing next to Strauss. He stares at it. So does everyone else. It¡¯s covered in oil almost all the way up to its propellers. The camera pokes out from the dripping, shimmering oil. ¡°Did any of you see something hit it?¡± Strauss asks. ¡°No.¡± Daley reaches out and scrapes a finger across the oil, then smells it. ¡°Standard crude.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± I ask. Strauss hesitates. ¡°Command, we have an anomalous oil leak aboard the Pendleton. Lieutenant Rodriguez has gone missing, and L4-3 insists on recovering her. Please advise.¡± Director Ramirez clears his throat. ¡°Command approves the rescue mission. Proceed into the ship, but remember¡­remember that your main objective is keeping L4-3 safe and secure.¡± ¡°Copy that,¡± Strauss says. I¡¯m already climbing down the ladder into the ship¡¯s belly. The moment my feet hit the floor, I¡¯ve got the Revolver out and the reality skippers loaded up. The fire beam shots are a bad idea in here, and I¡¯m concerned that the gravity shells might cause too much damage to the rusted hull¡ªor worse, open one of the oil tanks. The whole ship stinks. It¡¯s a mix of rot, seawater, and oil. And the pipes are whispering. Oil keeps flowing through them. It¡¯s flowing down and toward the stern. The rest of RST Lambda-Four hits the floor behind me¡ªexcept for Strauss. He¡¯s got the drone up and running again, and he¡¯s scouting out the other side of the Pendleton. ¡°I¡¯ll continue providing overwatch.¡± ¡°Copy,¡± Daley says. I can feel the tension in his voice¡ªand in my shoulders. I ready the Revolver and push into the maze of pipes and tanks. The deck creaks under my feet despite my attempts to move quietly. When I hit a dead end, my first thought is to Slither and Smoke Form through the rats¡¯ nest of pipes. But the rest of Lambda-Four can¡¯t follow me if I do that, so I start backing up. It takes almost fifteen minutes of searching for a path, covering our back, and moving cautiously, but eventually, I put my hand on the first rusted and locked door. The spinning handle screeches, then pops open. Air whooshes into the space behind it, a series of steep stairwells leading deeper into the ship. Something heavy and metal crashes down behind us, and the little bit of sunlight cuts off. Chapter Fifty-Eight Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Strauss¡¯s feed to his drone cut off instantly. One second, he could see the red-lit room he¡¯d been investigating near the ship¡¯s stern. The next, half his vision was static. ¡°Command, contact with the drone has been lost. Mark time.¡± ¡°Time marked. 11:53 Local Victoria Time,¡± Ramirez said. It took a couple of blinks for Strauss to reconfigure his face shield for regular vision. ¡°Lambda-Four, we lost reconnaissance and overwatch.¡± No one responded. He stared down the open hatch into the darkness below. SHOCKS had trained him for this; his team was split into three separate groups, leaderless, and confronting an unknown anomaly or group of anomalies. He loosened his rifle and got it ready, but didn¡¯t raise it just yet. Protocols said to try alternative means of communication, then attempt to regroup with the rest of the team unless it put the mission in danger to do so. ¡°JAMES Unit, please respond. I¡¯ve lost contact with Lambda-Four. Do you still have contact with L4-3, Claire Pendleton?¡± It wasn¡¯t lost on Strauss that she was inside a ship she shared a name with. The JAMES Unit didn¡¯t respond. Whatever was going on inside the Pendleton, Strauss had lost contact with everyone outside of Command. ¡°Command, do you have contact with the rest of Lambda-Four?¡± The response took a moment. ¡°Negative. Expect electronic and magnetic systems to fail within the ship¡¯s hull. We¡¯re working with the JAMES Unit to gather information on similar anomalies. Stand by.¡± He took a deep breath, trying not to feel too much relief. Then, he let his training take over. They were dealing with a Post-Life Entity, presumably one in the high-Xuduo-Danger class. It was capable of affecting electronics within its domain, which included the sub-surface levels of the Pendleton. The ship was also partially operational¡ªor at least its pumps were. And no one could leave it¡ªnot if they wanted to go anywhere. The tide was coming in, covering the gaps in reality with murky water. ¡°Copy that. I¡¯m going to begin visual reconnaissance on the Pendleton¡¯s surface deck and outer hull, with an interest in demolition. Will report in every one to two minutes in case of communications loss, per protocols.¡± ¡°Understood. We¡¯re recording from your helmet cam. Keep safe, and recover her,¡± Ramirez said. ¡°L4-5 out,¡± Strauss said. He cut off the communication and started tapping on the rusted deck. One thing struck him, though. Ramirez hadn¡¯t said which ¡®her¡¯ needed recovery.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The flashlights cut out. So does my helmet overlay. My augs flick off, and a wave of vertigo hits me. I get my helmet off just in time, puke into the corner, and watch as they flick back on in ¡®safe mode.¡¯ I try to flick between different vision modes, but nothing works. All I¡¯ve got is standard, and I can¡¯t even see my hand in front of my face. The ship¡¯s voice screams for help again. I shiver. My heart won¡¯t stop pounding. Someone¡¯s hand closes on my shoulder. ¡°L4-3, that you?¡± ¡°Yes. Jesus! I almost shot you!¡± I shout. It¡¯s Daley. L4-2. He flicks a lighter. A thin, wavering flame lights up the room, and I flinch; we¡¯re surrounded by barrels full of oil, and if they go up, the burning man¡¯s heat will feel like an early spring sunshine. ¡°Keep that thing away from the tanks!¡± ¡°Way ahead of you on that,¡± Daley says. He reaches up and fishes an ancient-looking lantern from the ceiling. I shake my head. There¡¯s no way that¡¯ll work. But it does. The orange light casts long shadows between the pipes all around us. We¡¯re like flies surrounded by a hundred spiders¡¯ webs. Munroe joins us. He¡¯s got his rifle at his shoulder. ¡°Loaded for Post-Life.¡± ¡°Same here,¡± Daley says. ¡°Not that it¡¯ll do much.¡± ¡°Okay. Okay.¡± I breathe. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve really breathed since the lights went out. The Revolver¡¯s shells glow in front of me; I can¡¯t see anything by their light, but they¡¯re still reassuring. ¡°Okay,¡± I say for a third time, getting my bearings, ¡°Let¡¯s try calling out. Command, Strauss, and, uh, the JAMES Unit.¡± The lines are quiet. Not staticky, like there¡¯s something disrupting communications. Just silent. No response¡ªjust like Rodriguez earlier. Daley and Munroe shake their heads as well. We¡¯re clustered around the foggy, scratched lantern in the middle of the ship¡¯s oil storage. ¡°Back to the entrance, then?¡± I ask. ¡°Negative,¡± Munroe says. ¡°This is a standard ghost ship Post Life Entity. That hatch is sealed. We could try cutting our way out. That almost always works. But Strauss has our egress/ingress gear, and he¡¯s on the outside. We should keep moving, though.¡± He¡¯s right. More importantly, he¡¯s telling the truth. The best way out is to keep moving. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ve got point. Keep that light up so we can see, and watch our backs.¡± I start moving through the mazelike hull. In theory, there¡¯s a way out¡ªif this isn¡¯t the obvious trap I think it is, at least. Something moves up ahead, and I pull the trigger. A merge opens, and the reality skipper hits the hull, sparking. I wince as the shot¡¯s impact echoes around us. Then I breathe and keep moving. Whatever it was, it¡¯s already gone. ¡°Reconnaissance by fire,¡± Daley says. I snort. ¡°Har har.¡± So, I¡¯ve got three puzzles. The first and most pressing is to find Rodriguez. The ship took her. I don¡¯t think it killed her, though. That means it needs her alive for¡­something. I want to figure out what that something is, but getting the lieutenant back is more important than that. Second is finding a way out for myself¡ªand for Daley and Munroe, as well. And third¡­third is finding some record of what happened after the Pendleton sank. James could have told me everything up to the point the rescuers gave up on recovering more people. He¡¯d accessed that information already, and that¡¯d give me a place to start. But as it stands, I¡¯m on my own for that mission. Daley and Munroe probably only care about finding their team lead¡ªor maybe only about getting out alive¡ªso this mystery¡¯s all mine. That doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t use them, though. Or that they can¡¯t help me. ¡°What do you know about ghost ships?¡± Daley looks at the ceiling. ¡°It¡¯s almost always either the captain or the crew. Sometimes, a distraught wife, like L4-5 said earlier. If we knew who¡¯d gotten off the Pendleton when she sank, we could tell which. There¡¯s usually someone on board who¡¯s not ready to go, but usually, they stay at their station and keep doing their job.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re looking for the different stations on board?¡± I ask. My Revolver¡¯s up again as I keep moving. I don¡¯t have any clues about Rodriguez, and we can¡¯t escape, so investigating the ship is my only real move. I need to fill in some variables, even if they¡¯re not the most important ones. ¡°Maybe. I¡¯d check the crew quarters first,¡± Munroe says. ¡°Someone probably died there, possibly without any idea what even happened.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. There¡¯s no way to know where the crew¡¯s quarters are, though. I wander through the maze of pipes. They don¡¯t make any sense: pipes in the hallways, pipes across doors, even pipes seeming to run straight through the oil tanks that line the whole deck. It¡¯s almost like they¡¯ve grown here somehow. The gurgling oil passing through the ship keeps slurping by, and I shiver. We push through the maze. It feels like it¡¯s taking hours, but my augs show it as only fifteen minutes. That¡¯s enough time to walk the length of the ship and back twice if I was on the top deck, but we¡¯re still making good progress. The lantern keeps flickering, and I clear another corner, then stop. There¡¯s a second door in the way. This one¡¯s just as barnacle-covered and rusted over as the first one. I stop next to it and try to spin it. It doesn¡¯t move. ¡°It¡¯s dogged. The crew sealed it to stop the water from coming in.¡± Munroe steps up to the door and pulls a lever near the floor. He strains, and it pops. Then he spins the wheel. Sand rushes into the room.
It covers Munroe in a wave; as the sand hits his skin and uniform, it flashes blue. In less than a second, he¡¯s buried up to his waist in bright blue sand. ¡°Oh, fuck!¡± Daley yells. He grabs the other trooper¡¯s hand and starts pulling. I watch, standing at the edge of the sand pile as more pours into the room, slowing but continuing to bury Munroe. Daley heaves, and something pops. Munroe screams. It¡¯s high-pitched, a shriek that pierces my brain, and I grab his other hand and pull, too. He erupts out as the sand vanishes around his leg, leaving a void in the ship¡¯s hull that¡¯s just a bit bigger than his thigh. Munroe¡¯s leg vanishes, too. Blood spurts like a geyser from the clean cut just above his knee. His femur¡¯s sliced perfectly evenly with his muscle and skin; even the pants leg¡¯s gone right there. He keeps screaming as we drag him away from the hole. Sand pours into it, mixing with the blood into a sticky, goopy slime before it vanishes. My Revolver¡¯s out. There¡¯s nothing to shoot, though. Suddenly, the slow-motion race we¡¯d been running along the beach feels a lot more horrifying. Daley¡¯s already got his med kit out. I fall to my knees next to the trooper. They hit the steel deck hard, and I suck in a pained breath. ¡°Holy shit. The sand¡¯s in the ship, too?¡± ¡°Pressure.¡± Daley snaps. He¡¯s got bandages and a tourniquet, which he loops around Munroe¡¯s leg. The big guy won¡¯t stop screaming, even as the rubber device clenches shut around the wreckage of his leg. I jam bandages into Munroe¡¯s stump. His screams double, then stop. Blood covers my fingers, but this is what I¡¯m supposed to be doing. I push even harder as the cotton cloth goes red. [Skill Learned: First Aid 2] Something clicks, and Daley lets go of the tourniquet. It¡¯s locked around Munroe¡¯s leg. The man¡¯s face is pale, and his breathing¡¯s shallow. Daley presses a finger to his neck. ¡°Pulse is weak. We need to get him out of here.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t.¡± Daley looks like he wants to punch me, but it¡¯s the truth¡ªhe said so himself. We can¡¯t go back up. I stand my ground, but the Revolver¡¯s on the floor nearby, not in my hand. It¡¯s not a deterrent. If he decides to attack me, I¡¯ve got nothing. Almost nothing. I don¡¯t move, though, and I don¡¯t watch him. My hands are covered in his teammate¡¯s blood, stuck in the guy¡¯s leg, and I can¡¯t move. ¡°According to you guys, this is a ghost ship. It¡¯s not just going to let us out. We have to make it let us go. How do you guys usually do that?¡± Daley stabs Munroe in the chest with a needle as long as my hand. He starts screaming again, eyes wild. His hands convulse. I glare at Daley across the other trooper¡¯s body. ¡°What was that for?¡± ¡°Munroe! Munroe, focus! We¡¯ve got you!¡± Daley yells. He slaps Munroe across the face, then pins the other man¡¯s arms to his side. I keep the pressure up on his leg as it convulses. ¡°We¡¯ve got morphine¡ªthe anomalous shit. But we can¡¯t give it to you until you tell us what to do.¡± ¡°Fuck, man,¡± Munroe chokes out through gritted teeth. He shakes again, then screams. It¡¯s not as loud as before, though. ¡°You gotta kill it.¡± ¡°How do we kill it?¡± I ask. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They¡¯re all different.¡± He¡¯s running on pure adrenaline. Daley kicks a can toward me. It¡¯s a wound clotter¡ªI pull the soaked bandages free and dump the whole can into the man¡¯s leg in one long spray that covers the floor in pinkish foam. ¡°So we have to figure it out?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah, man,¡± Munroe says. ¡°They¡¯re all different.¡± He¡¯s repeating himself. Daley hooks up another needle to a bag, jams it into the wounded man¡¯s arm, and squeezes the bag. A moment passes. Munroe convulses again. Then he goes quiet. The whole ship goes quiet except for the oil pulsing through the pipes all around us. ¡°That was a fucking waste of adrenaline,¡± Daley says. He double-checks the tourniquet and leans back on the ship¡¯s hull. ¡°Okay. L4-4 recording. We¡¯re inside a ghost ship anomaly. L4-2 ran into a separate anomaly. His leg¡¯s gone. We¡¯re working on possible evacuation plans, but the Post-Life Entity hasn¡¯t revealed itself yet. I¡¯m taking command of what¡¯s left of Lambda-Four. Current force: L4-1, separated; L4-2, injured and out of the fight; L4-3, VIP status, mission-critical that she survives; L4-4, in command; L4-5, separated on the ship¡¯s surface.¡± He keeps talking as he packs up his med kid¡ªor what¡¯s left of it. Most of it¡¯s on Munroe¡¯s leg or smeared across the Pendleton¡¯s decking. I interrupt. ¡°So far, all we¡¯ve run into is traps. I can move cautiously, and I¡¯ve got some Skills from truth-finding to keep myself safe. I¡¯ll work on an escape route. You stick with Munroe.¡± Daley pauses. Then he shakes his head. ¡°Negative, L4-3. The risk of losing you is too high.¡± ¡°None of us are getting out of this if we don¡¯t take a risk or two.¡± I stand up, wiping Munroe¡¯s blood onto my hoodie before opening a water bottle to rinse my hands as best I can. When I grab the Revolver, my grip¡¯s still tacky. I try my best to ignore it. I¡¯ve got no connection to this guy other than that we¡¯re on the same team¡ªfor now. But still¡­the blood on my hands is a lot. ¡°I¡¯m heading for the ship¡¯s stern. It¡¯s across the crevice, but I¡¯ll stay safe. You stick around here,¡± I say. Before Daley can protest, I¡¯m gone¡ªright through the wall with Slither and Smoke Form. [Stability 5/10]
My plan¡¯s not exactly what I told Daley. It¡¯s a lot more high-risk than that. I think the stern¡¯s where I need to be if I want to get off this ship, and it¡¯s definitely where Rodriguez is. But that gap¡¯s not going to be crossable¡ªnot in a conventional way. Slither might do it, and the reality-skipper mini Mergewalk might, but I¡¯m not convinced. Something about it feels¡­wrong. Like it¡¯s waiting for me to try it. It¡¯s more likely that there are only two ways across. The first is through the pipes that crisscross it, and I can¡¯t fit. And the second is to trigger the Post-Life Entity¡ªthe ghost. I¡¯m not thrilled about finding a ghost at all. Nothing in my toolkit¡¯s built to fight one. But I¡¯m not looking to fight it, either. As I wait for the inevitable, I keep my eyes open. Most of the ship¡¯s just the ever-present pipes and tanks. It¡¯s almost oppressive how industrial it is; it makes the basic living building¡¯s basement look downright welcoming. There¡¯s rust and sticky puddles of oil everywhere. I also try to swallow down the mounting dread. If I don¡¯t find the ghost soon, I¡¯ll stumble across another sand-filled chamber again. Or a pipe will burst and flood the deck with crude. Or something else. Anything could go wrong. A lot probably will. My equation¡¯s almost solved¡ªat least for the first variable. If I¡¯m right, the Post-Life Entity will come after me. If I¡¯m right, it¡¯ll take me to the same place it took Rodriguez. And if I¡¯m wrong? If I¡¯m wrong, we¡¯re all already dead anyway. I step into a room with a single card table and a pair of folding chairs at its center. The cards have been rotted for a long time, but there¡¯s a sheet of paper that, inexplicably, isn¡¯t. I read it through my aug. 19 February, 1952 Not sure where the rest of the crew is. We were supposed to make port in Boston today. When I woke up, there was no land to be seen. The Pendleton¡¯s last-known bearings were south of Cape Cod, so that can¡¯t be right. 20 February, 1952 Still trying to figure out where we are. The sun never set last night, but the ship¡¯s clock says a day¡¯s passed. My eyes don¡¯t match the time I think it should be. I¡¯m not alone. Two of the engine men showed up from down below. They said they¡¯d been working nonstop and no one had relieved them. There¡¯s no one available to relieve them. Merlin¡¯s pissed about it, but what can I do? 22 February, 1952 Merlin says the three of us can bring the Pendleton in. That¡¯s good, because I finally thought to check the radio, and it¡¯s dead. We¡¯re picking a heading and sailing in it. There¡¯s plenty of fuel and food. We¡¯ll find something before we run out. There are a few more entries, all from February ninety-two years ago. The paper¡¯s a journal. I try to pick it up, but my hand goes right through it, so I fiddle with my ¡®safe mode¡¯ aug until it goes to camera mode, take a quick picture, and move on. It¡¯s my first clue, and the only thing it¡¯s told me is that a few members of the crew ¡®survived¡¯ as ghosts. They were trying to find a port. Something tells me they failed. I keep moving through the pipe maze. They¡¯re everywhere. There¡¯s even more of them the further aft I go. My Revolver¡¯s back in my pocket since I¡¯m trying to attract the ghost, not fight it. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I¡¯m in danger here, and I¡¯m not trying to protect myself. Ahead, there¡¯s a stairway leading down into the hull. I eye it dubiously, then start climbing down into the pitch-black darkness below. Even my aug can¡¯t penetrate it, and the ladder creaks under me as I work my way down. My foot misses a rung. I fall and hit the deck back-first. Air shoves its way out of my lungs. There¡¯s a square above me that¡¯s not quite as dark as the rest; as I suck in a breath of air and cough, it goes pitch black, and the door slams shut. I can¡¯t help but smile through the pain. My aug¡¯s already recording. A ghostly figure in one of those white undershirts rough guys wear in the old shows steps through the wall. He reaches down and grabs my arm. It goes cold and numb as he drags me to my feet and drags me, arm-first, through the wall and into the ship¡¯s stern. Chapter Fifty-Nine The amount of free processing power shocked James. He hadn¡¯t realized how much of his attention was on Claire and SHOCKS Victora/Vancouver Island until the girl vanished. Thousands of free processing loops had just appeared out of nowhere, with no pressing tasks to assign them to. It was heady to free up thirty percent of his power suddenly, and for a second, he contemplated cutting off even more people. Even one thread per person was too much to sacrifice. He had so much to think about¡ªso much to do. But he also felt empty. Purposeless. Alone. And none of that was acceptable. James reallocated his processing. A single thread monitored Claire¡¯s augs¡ªor at least, the last known point of contact for her augs. Another infiltrated the SHOCKS Command signal, though he didn¡¯t make contact with Strauss except to ride along in the trooper¡¯s aug. SHOCKS had lost contact with Claire, as well as the rest of Lambda-Four; Strauss was their only remaining point of contact. The rest of his processing poured into the Battle of London. While Victoria had been a slow fall into chaos, London had surpassed it almost instantly. Dozens of merges were competing for territory and a mechanical doomsday device that made the Fungal Lords look like pet rats was approaching across the English Channel. Things looked dire for Jolly Old England, indeed. But one loop wasn¡¯t enough for Claire. As the picoseconds dragged on, James found more and more of his processing monitoring that single point of contact. Almost every loop he¡¯d reassigned drifted not to the offline augments, but to Strauss. James let it happen. He wasn¡¯t happy about it, but whatever was happening on board that ghost ship, he needed to know everything he could about it. He needed to know it more than he¡¯d ever needed to know anything in his life. The Battle of London would have to wait. It was lost anyway.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - I hit the floor. Hard. The impact doesn¡¯t drive the wind out of my lungs this time, though, and I look around. The room I¡¯m in is dominated by levers, gears, and hissing, steaming pipes. It reeks of oil¡ªbut not the crude I¡¯m used to. This feels sharper, closer to a big truck¡¯s gas than what was leaking from the ship. And in the middle of the room, howling and throwing sparks, a massive turbine spins. I¡¯m in the engine room. It¡¯s not the crew¡¯s quarters, the cafeteria, or whatever they call the place on a ship where people eat, but it¡¯s somewhere important. It¡¯s somewhere I just read about in the Post-Life Entity¡¯s message. I¡¯m winning. Sort of. There¡¯s no ghost here. So where is it? I¡¯ve definitely seen it¡ªjust in flashes, though. And I¡¯ve felt its cold grip on my arm. I shake it out¡ªit¡¯s getting less ¡®numb¡¯ and more ¡®tingly pins and needles¡¯¡ªand get my bearings. There¡¯s only one way out of the engine room, and it¡¯s up a steep set of stairs that¡ªmiraculously¡ªisn¡¯t blocked off or dogged shut from the other side. I peek up into the space above. It¡¯s a long hallway with a bunch of doors on either side, all rounded and all with the same spinny handles. I pick the first one, work its handle, and step back as it creaks open, just in case it¡¯s full of sand, too. It¡¯s not. In fact, it looks like a bunk room. Four beds are jammed inside, and another piece of paper lies on one of them. 28? March, 1953 We¡¯ve been sailing. We¡¯ve been sailing for so long. The engine should have died ten months ago. Maybe longer. But the pipes keep flowing. The engine keeps grinding. We¡¯ve caught fire three times, and every time, it burns out and the ship keeps running. The first time, we set the fire ourselves to sink her and put her out of her misery. The other two were accidents. Are there more pipes than when we started? I¡¯m not sure 13 May 1953? There are more pipes. One of the crew quarters is filled with them. I can¡¯t see inside, but Jameson was in there when it filled up. He hadn¡¯t moved in so long, and now he¡¯s trapped. We¡¯re all trapped, so it doesn¡¯t matter. I haven¡¯t eaten in weeks¡ªhaven¡¯t seen the sun that¡¯s always overhead either. The ship needs constant attention. I don¡¯t sleep anymore. I don¡¯t dream. 35 October 1954? 1955? Is Jameson dead? Am I dead? Does it matter if I am? So, that¡¯s concerning. And I still haven¡¯t found any clues about Lieutenant Rodriguez¡ªor about how to get out of this ship. But I feel like I¡¯m closing in on what happened to it, at least. I turn to leave, but the ghost disappears from view around the door frame as I do. This time, I don¡¯t want to be pulled away. The Revolver goes up, and I fire a shot that does nothing but appear and plink off the hull. The ghost, whoever it is, doesn¡¯t reappear, and once my pulse settles down, I keep moving. According to it, one of these crew quarters is pipe-filled. I just need to find which one and see if Jameson is still there. I check the next door, backpedaling further down the hall as sand gushes into it. When it disappears, there¡¯s a hole in the floor¡ªand the next floor, and the next, down impossibly far until it disappears through the thin layer below the ship and drops into the nothing below. I stare at the hole. It¡¯s got to be a hundred feet down to the bottom, and infinitely more after that. My stomach lurches. I turn my back and hurry away. Two more doors fill the hall with sand that disappears, taking everything with it. Everything, that is, except for an absolute rats¡¯ nest of pipes. They¡¯re everywhere on the lower decks; I could probably climb down them if I wanted to. And they¡¯re all full of oil. It¡¯s pulsing through them like blood through veins. I open the next door and confront a solid wall of them, so tight that there¡¯s absoutely no way I can get through. I think about Slither and Smoke Form, but if there¡¯s not enough open space on the other side, that could be¡­messy. And deadly. Instead, I press my ear to the pipes. I can almost hear something on the other side over the liquid glug. A voice, maybe? It¡¯s hard to tell, but there might be a mumbling voice on the other side. Still, it¡¯s not worth the risk. There are other ways to answer this equation. The rest of the hall¡¯s lined with more doors just like the ones I¡¯ve already opened. I leave them closed; right now, I want to find where the crew ate¡ªor a recreation room. There has to be one of those on board, right? It takes me a while, and even though I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not far, my path forward keeps getting blocked. The pipes are everywhere. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say they were a living thing. My mind flashes back to the flesh reality, and the giant maggots. But this place isn¡¯t that bad. Eventually, I step into the mess hall. It¡¯s not much¡ªa handful of tables and some empty plates and cups. There¡¯s a kitchen, but it¡¯s stuffed full of pipes, too. These drip onto a handful of plastic plates, covering them with oil that seems to pulse out in waves, only to drain away into grates set into the floor. There¡¯s another paper on the table, but before I can read it, the ghost appears right in front of me.
It doesn¡¯t make a move¡ªnot even when I put three reality skippers through it. Those don¡¯t do a damn thing. It turns, balls the paper up, and throws it over its shoulder. It¡¯s gone before it even hits the floor. ¡°New crew members? It¡¯s been so long.¡± I stare, throat tight. The Revolver¡¯s between it and me, but I don¡¯t have any chance if we fight. I¡¯m out of moved before we¡¯ve even started. Munroe might have one; he seemed like an expert on this shit. But I don¡¯t.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. So instead, I wait. ¡°Jameson is the captain now.¡± I keep waiting. My pulse fills my ears. I can feel it in my neck and temples. Or maybe that¡¯s the pulsing oil. It¡¯s hard to tell. ¡°Come with me. I¡¯ll take you to him.¡± The ghost holds out its hand. So, that¡¯s a thing. The last time, I got grabbed and dragged. Now, it¡¯s asking permission? Or at least not trying to pull me through the walls on its own. Something about this whole thing strikes me as weird¡ªit doesn¡¯t fit into my calculations. Is this the original author of the diary? Or is this someone else? The author said there were three crew members. Was Jameson one of them? I scratch my head, trying to remember. It¡¯s no use. I don¡¯t remember any names. Not until Jameson. Merlin, maybe? My ears won¡¯t stop ringing. It started quiet when I arrived in the mess hall, but it¡¯s getting overwhelming. I reach out and put my hand in the ghost¡¯s, and we slam through the pipes and walls, into a room with two figures lying on bunks. The first is Rodriguez. She¡¯s unharmed¡ªI think¡ªbut she¡¯s not conscious, and she¡¯s not in uniform. At all¡ªshe¡¯s naked on the bed. There¡¯s an uncapped pipe aimed right for her sternum¡ªas I watch, it grows another quarter-inch. I look away, face flushing. Once I¡¯ve figured this out, I¡¯ll get her back in her uniform and we¡¯ll get out of here, but for now, I need to focus on the other person in this room. ¡°Jameson,¡± the ghost says. ¡°More crew.¡± Jameson doesn¡¯t respond. That¡¯s no surprise; I didn¡¯t expect one from him. He¡¯s nothing more than a skeleton¡ªthough I can only see a few bones and the smallest part of his skull through the thicket of pipes sticking into him from every possible angle. The pulsing in my ears intensifies. None of them are running through him. They all hit where his body should be, then stop. He¡¯s the source of the oil, not the tanks. I¡¯m not sure how that¡¯s possible, but it is. I don¡¯t need that paper anymore. The ship¡¯s been running on its crew. Feeding on them for ninety years like a vampire. It¡¯s kept them running all this time, searching for a port they¡¯ll never find. Only now they¡¯re beached. And they need more fuel. The single pipe heading for Rodriguez clicks and pops as it moves forward. She breathes shallowly, and I take a deep breath. The Pendleton has sailed for a long time, but it¡¯s time to end its journey before it kills Lieutenant Rodriguez. I load the flame burst cylinder, putting the reality skippers into my pocket. Then I take a deep breath. I pull the trigger.
The shot hits Jameson¡¯s corpse. It winks out like it didn¡¯t even happen. Every ounce of heat seems to suck out of the room. The ghost stares at my gun. ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­¡± A faint explosion rips through the ship, and light pours into the semidarkness. The vibration hits my feet a moment later. But it¡¯s not enough¡ªnot nearly enough. The light¡¯s faint, like somewhere in the distance, a gap opened up. It¡¯s on the other side of the chasm between stern and bow, though, and a thousand tangled pipes separate me from it. My shot couldn¡¯t have done that. The ghost confirms it a moment later. It laughs. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything, fresh mate. The ship still needs to be fueled.¡± I ignore it. If I can¡¯t shoot my way out of this problem, Jameson¡¯s the key. I don¡¯t understand how or why yet, but he¡¯s the key¡ªthe one variable I can adjust to change this equation. Everything else is locked in. I even have a good guess of what caused that explosion¡ªand if I¡¯m right, James should be reconnecting soon. In the meantime, I need that journal entry. I take a deep breath, staring down the ghost as it steps toward me. Then I fall backward through the pipe-blocked door as Slither and Smoke Form activate. [Stability 5/10] My feet pound the deck, the thumping accompanying my mad dash down the hall and into the mess hall. The oil¡¯s still flowing onto the plates and into the grates below, pulsing faster than it did a moment ago, and my Revolver¡¯s in my pocket. I could take the shot¡ªcould set the whole ship ablaze and try to break out. But with Lieutenant Rodriguez separated from me, I can¡¯t take the risk, and the ship won¡¯t burn anyway. The diary said they tried that already. Instead, I grope around on the floor, trying to feel the rolled-up paper. It¡¯ll be cold and numbing when I find it, just like the ghost¡¯s grip. I drop down on all fours and crawl back and forth where it got tossed. My fingers brush through something freezing. And there it is. It shimmers into existence as my hand goes numb from the wrist to my fingernails; wrinkles cover it, but it¡¯s so close to being readable. A freezing grip tightens on my shoulder and forces me to stand. ¡°The ship needs a crew, and the ship needs fuel. Time to choose.¡± It wrenches me around hard enough to jerk me off my feet and starts marching me down the hall. I snap a picture of the message. The angle¡¯s bad, but it¡¯s the best I can do for now. I can¡¯t read it, though. [Reconnecting¡­] That message is a wind under my numb, freezing wings. I wait a few painful seconds for James to finish reconnecting to my augs. They reboot. My stomach lurches. And then my vision shifts to the balled-up spectral paper. [What a mess. I¡¯ve scanned the other two images you recorded, and I¡¯m working on solving this like it¡¯s a jigsaw puzzle. Handwriting analysis running. Complete. Crumple pattern analysis running. Complete. Context analysis running. Complete.] James keeps talking. I ignore him as the ghost drags me back through the wall to Jameson¡¯s room. ¡°Mate, the ship needs you,¡± it says. ¡°We¡¯ve got to find a port.¡± ¡°There is no port! You¡¯re beached, your ship¡¯s cracked in two, and you¡¯re not going anywhere!¡± I yell. My arm¡¯s gone past numb to painful, but I can¡¯t wrench it free. [Analysis complete.] ¡°If you won¡¯t help the ship sail in life, you¡¯ll help it as fuel.¡± The ghost throws me toward one of the bunks. I hit it, and a pipe starts moving slowly toward my chest. [Reconstruction complete,] James says. ¡°Show me!¡± 42 December 19-something Time passes by without any days passing. The date¡¯s a guess. I think I¡¯m dead, but I don¡¯t think it matters. Jameson is dead, though, and that matters. I walked through the pipes. They whispered to me with his voice. He¡¯s become the captain. No, he¡¯s become the ship¡¯s heart. 01 February Jameson¡¯s beat¡¯s slowing down. So is the ship. I can¡¯t take his place, and Culver¡¯s gone. Just¡­gone. I found the door he¡¯d opened and a gaping hole in the hull, but the water didn¡¯t flow in. There was nothing but darkness and dripping oil. 74 We¡¯re running out of fuel. 75 The Pendleton is drifting free. The engines can idle for a day or two, but that¡¯s the end. Port¡¯s not in view. I¡¯m not sure there is a port. But there must be a port. We came from somewhere, and we were going somewhere. 76 Someone¡¯s come aboard. New crew. Or new fuel. That¡¯s it. Jameson is the key. I try to get up, but the ghost pushes me back down into the bunk, crowding me so I can¡¯t escape. The Revolver¡¯s in my pocket, but my arms are numb and freezing. I start shaking them out as the pipe creeps toward my chest. It¡¯s not going to be enough, though. Not with the ghost watching my every move. I need a way out, and the math is pass or fail at this point. Either I¡¯m fuel, or I¡¯m free¡ªno middle ground. I¡¯ve got to pull the ghost away or hurt the ship¡¯s veins. Either of the two would work, but how? Strauss. With James here, I can talk to him¡ªor at least have my friend relay messages across to him. ¡°James, Strauss did something. Tell him to do it again, but bigger!¡± [He detonated a controlled charge to break into the bow¡¯s first sub-deck and regroup with¡ª] ¡°Don¡¯t care! Make him blow the oil tanks on the bow.¡± [All of them?] ¡°As many as he can!¡± James doesn¡¯t respond. Everything goes quiet, and I keep struggling to deal with the Post-Life Entity pinning me to the bed as the pipe extends toward me. My hand clutches my Revolver. It¡¯s got the fire rounds. But I wait; shooting now won¡¯t help anything. The ship shudders. Pipes creak all around me as my ears both pop from a huge pressure wave that shoves me into the bed¡ªthen a second and third. The floor tilts under me, and oil sprays from a half-dozen broken, shattered pipes¡ªincluding the one over Rodriguez. She sputters and coughs. And the ghost vanishes. I move fast. The Revolver slips out of my numb fingers and clatters across the floor, but I ignore it. The gun¡¯s been a distraction¡ªa feint¡ªthe whole time. What I really want is to get to Jameson, and now¡¯s my chance. My hands wrap around his skeletal ones, and a song rushes up inside of me. [Stabilty 4/10] Music is just math at its core. It¡¯s fractions and wind speed and all of that. There¡¯s an equation for every song if you¡¯re looking for it. It¡¯s not like English or Social Studies. It has rules. The song inside me isn¡¯t one I can sing, and I have no instruments to play it. [Stability 3/10] It still happens, though. It¡¯s voiceless¡ªa voiceless song from a voiceless singer. It swells and rips at my brain, but my Infohazard Resistance doesn¡¯t work¡ªnot when the infohazard is me. And I can¡¯t stop it. No. I won¡¯t stop it. I channel it toward the corpse that was once Jameson¡ªa man who never asked for his fate. He couldn¡¯t have wanted this, but the ship had to reach port, and they were out of fuel. Jameson did his best in death, just like he¡¯d tried to fight for the Pendleton in life as water filled its hull. It¡¯s not his fault. [Truth Learned: Part of the Ship, Part of the Crew] [Active Skill Learned: Truthseeker] Something triggers in my mind; I know what Absolution does now. As I realize it, two voids extend in space behind me like wings made from negative numbers¡ªfrom the quietest notes in a symphony. I let them unfurl; I¡¯m not a Voiceless Singer, but I know their song now. [Stability Stability 2/10] I use Absolution as the ghostly crewmember rushes back into the room, screaming. I forgive Jameson. He did everything he could. [Stability 1/10] The song stops. Then it explodes out into Jameson¡¯s bones and the Post-Life Entity¡¯s spectral body. It drains me like nothing¡¯s drained me before¡ªmy whole body¡¯s shaking from cold and exhaustion. I scream. The whole ship shimmers and bends as the ghost disappears. So does Jameson. His bones vanish into nothing, crumbling to dust that shimmers and disappears. There¡¯s a sheet of paper under him. This one¡¯s real; I shove it into my pocket with the Revolver¡¯s cylinders and grab Olivia. I throw her over my shoulder and shove the Revolver into my pocket. The ship settles into the sand below and lists to port. It¡¯s time to leave. Chapter Sixty [SHOCKS Internal Communications Log] EVG Control Zone, August 13, 2032 Trooper Sarah Evans; Director Zoltan Carroll - - - - - Carroll: Status report. Now. Evans: We¡¯ve successfully captured the ''molly and are in the process of extracting it from Temp Site 652. ETA to Headquarters is twenty-three minutes. The LT is down, but stable. We lost Perkins, though. Body is¡­non-recoverable. Carroll: Field containment should hold. Mobile Containment Units are at the trucks. Keep it tight. Evans: Copy that. Silence for two minutes, thirteen seconds. An explosion is heard. Gunfire is heard. Evans: Command, Evans. The whole area just erupted. Huge amounts of plant growth¡ªoff the charts. LT got dropped in the chaos, and it just ripped him¡ª- Caroll: Copy. We¡¯re seeing it. Proceed with extraction. RST Pi-Five is on the way to reinforce. ETA four minutes. Evans: We won¡¯t make it four minutes, sir! It¡¯s breaking loose! An explosion is heard. The sound of the earth tearing itself open drowns out the following gunfire. Silence is heard, broken only by an organic, creaking sound. The audio feed ends. Log ends.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - It takes a few minutes, and the Pendleton keeps listing farther to port as I drag Rodriguez, her clothes, and my sorry butt up to the deck. Pipes break all around me, and the ship fills with a gummy, sand-and-oil mixture that goes blue and rips through the hull, but I¡¯m halfway down the rope when it really starts sinking into the nothing below. The whole ship¡¯s coming apart, the oil stain¡¯s spreading, and I have to swing the rope as I slide uncontrollably down toward a gap in the sand. Rodriguez and I hit the sand hard, leaving blue streaks behind. She slips out of my grip and rolls, then pushes herself to her knees. ¡°Fuck. Fuck! L4, come in!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got you!¡± I yell. I pick her up. She¡¯s heavy¡ªsolid muscle, and almost five-foot-eight of it¡ªbut I pick her up easily and throw her over my shoulder. Then, we keep moving away from the collapsing wreck of the Pendleton. I look over my shoulder as it screeches and twists. It buckles at the crevice halfway down its hull. Then, it drops like a rock through the sand, and it¡¯s gone. [L4-1, L4-3, I have locational fixes on the rest of RST Lambda-Four,] James says. He¡¯s using the computer voice; I shiver as he keeps talking. [They¡¯re up ahead on the beach and moving slowly, although the rover is gone. L4-4 is badly injured but movable, and L4-5 and L4-2 are still at full combat effectiveness.] That¡¯s good. We¡¯re in trouble, but that¡¯s good. I grit my teeth and keep walking down the beach. All around me, the sand falls away like an hourglass. We can¡¯t follow them directly, so catching up is more about coming in at an angle to intercept, but we catch up. Rodriguez slides off my back and starts pulling on her uniform until she¡¯s fully dressed, but I can¡¯t help catching the burned circles on her skin where the pipes made contact. They¡¯re red and black, and the skin¡¯s already peeling and flaking. She ignores them except when her battle uniform rubs and catches on them. The whole time, she keeps moving just ahead of the blue sand. Strauss and L4-4 have L4-2 between them in a carry. They¡¯re struggling across the sand, and I clear my throat. With Rodriguez gone and my Endurance, I can handle the weight. They shift Munroe to me, and I flop him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Very heavy, uncomfortable potatoes. ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Strauss says, ¡°Command is working on extraction. Triangulating our reality is taking the JAMES Unit a long time, though. We have contact with it again, but this one¡¯s not in its databases.¡± [Affirmative. However, I¡¯d estimate we¡¯ll have a connection within the next hour. Ramirez wants two portals, the first for Lambda-Four and the second for L4-3 to continue her mission.] ¡°Like hell,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°We¡¯re carrying on the mission. Lambda-Four¡¯s still in the game. Four out of five of us are still combat-ready, so you can tell Paul to¡ª¡° [I agree with his assessment, Lieutenant. At least two of you are currently not combat-ready. Your injuries require treatment and recovery as well. However, I am arguing for Claire and Sergeant Strauss, as well as Sergeant Daley, to receive a small break before continuing. No more than 24 hours. This has been hard on her.] Rodriguez goes quiet, but I can feel the fury boiling off of her. I don¡¯t care, though. James and Director Ramirez are right; the Recovery and Stabilization Team is beat up, and wherever SHOCKS wants to send us, Munroe and Rodriguez aren¡¯t going to be useful there. No one says anything for a long time, except for James, and he¡¯s only talking to me. [Claire, I¡¯ve scrubbed all the recordings of what happened in the Pendleton¡¯s crew quarters.] ¡°What?¡± I whisper. When James speaks, his voice is quiet. [You picked up a new power. It¡¯s very Voiceless Singer-like. I¡¯m concerned that if Director Ramirez were to see it in action, you would become a SHOCKS target for research purposes again, and your continued freedom is too valuable to me to sacrifice it. Please be careful when using that power in the future.] I¡¯ve already been thinking about all the ways I could use Absolution. It can¡¯t just be good against Post-Life Entities¡ªthough it instantly removed Jameson as a threat. It also stripped the whole Pendleton of its anomalous status when I used it. Could I do the same thing to the sand below our feet? ¡°How do we get out of here?¡± I ask. Rodriguez holds up a hand. She¡¯s a little shaky, and her face looks drawn under her helmet. Her lips move; she¡¯s talking to Director Ramirez. I think about asking James to patch me into the conversation so I can hear it, but something from the last hour tickles the back of my mind, and I decide not to. And isn¡¯t absolution a religious thing? We keep walking, but slowly¡ªbarely outstripping the collapsing beach behind us. Munroe¡¯s heavier than Rodriguez was, but at least he¡¯s unconscious. I¡¯ve got a hand around his intact leg and one around his wrists, wearing him like a much-too-big scarf. ¡°Normally, we¡¯d set up an extraction point and wait for a helicopter or truck,¡± Strauss says. ¡°You guys get helicopters?¡± Strauss sighs. ¡°Of course we get helicopters, L4-3. We¡¯re the big bad government agency. We don¡¯t use them often, and SHOCKS Victoria and Vancouver Island loaned ours to the SeaTac district just before this kicked off, but we have helicopters.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°We could have been flying right now.¡± ¡°Focus. Normally, we¡¯d set up an easily-defended extraction point and hold that, along with whatever package we¡¯re supposed to collect. We¡¯d pick a place with good lines of sight and no way for enemies to flank us, dig in hard, and set up our Reality Anchors and other defenses. Then we¡¯d wait.¡± There¡¯s a definite problem that I see already. ¡°We can¡¯t defend a point.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. [Incorrect,] James says. ¡°Incorrect,¡± Rodriguez says at the same time. ¡°We can easily defend a point; we just can¡¯t occupy that point until the moment we extract. I¡¯m not worried about something showing up. So far, this reality¡¯s only been ghost ships and sand. I haven¡¯t even seen a tree yet.¡± She points at the horizon, where the spit of sand widens around a bay in a wide, sickle-shaped beach. ¡°Paul¡ª¡° ¡°Command here.¡± ¡°Fine. Command, we¡¯re going to set up extraction for the far side of that beach. You think it¡¯ll take ten minutes to calibrate for our location?¡± ¡°Correct. That beach looks adequate. We have your coordinates. Merge generator starting up,¡± Ramirez says. ¡°Hold position as best you can.¡± ¡°Copy that. See you soon.¡± Rodriguez points again, and a section of sand lights up green. ¡°That¡¯s our target. Take it easy on the speed so we don¡¯t overshoot.¡± The back of my neck tingles and my ears start to ring. And just like that, a black hole in space opens up behind us, looming overhead, and a Voiceless Singer steps through.
¡°L4-3, main mission objective has arrived. Can you subdue it?¡± Command¡ªDirector Ramirez¡ªasks. ¡°Probably not.¡± ¡°Can you stop it from killing the team?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, I can do that,¡± I say. The Voiceless Singer just hangs there in the air, staring at me. It has no clear face, but I can still feel its gaze locked on me. ¡°Strauss, take Munroe,¡± I murmur as I shrug the injured man off my shoulders and onto the sergeant¡¯s. He buckles under the weight but keeps moving. My helmet¡¯s earpieces pop, and so does my aug as the Voiceless Singer¡¯s song hits us. ¡°James, you¡¯ve got them, right?¡± [Yes, I do.] ¡°Great.¡± James said we shouldn¡¯t fight a big anomaly on the sands, and the Voiceless Singer is definitely one of the most powerful I¡¯ve encountered. We don¡¯t have a Faraday Cage. We don¡¯t have the same weapons we had when SHOCKS captured the first Voiceless Singer. Even Strauss¡¯s rover¡ªwhich might have had the firepower to knock this thing out if it detonated everything at once¡ªis missing. I don¡¯t want to fight the Voiceless Singer. Not here. Not when I don¡¯t have a chance at winning. But I don¡¯t have a choice. I draw the Revolver. ¡°Keep moving. I¡¯ll keep it off you. See you on the other side.¡± Rodriguez pauses. Then she nods. ¡°You heard L4-3. Nice and slow. She¡¯s got our back.¡± I load the reality skippers. [Claire, you can¡¯t win this fight,] James says. ¡°I don¡¯t need to win. I just have to stall.¡± The Voiceless Singer pauses as I level the Revolver. Then its song crashes down on me with all its weight. I have one hundred percent of its attention. The sand under my feet starts to vanish, and I run left¡ªright toward Strauss¡¯s path. It collapses, too. I jump over it. Bullet Time activates mid-air, and I put three shots into the Voiceless Singer before I hit the ground on the far side. Sapphire sand flies up all around me. Some lands on my face and arms. The three shots exit their micromerges and slam into the Voiceless Singer. It screams. It¡¯s the same wall of sonic force as the others, hitting me like a truck filled with bricks. It shoves me away and sends me cartwheeling across the sand. I Slither over a gap to the void and turn, then activate Determination. The scream finishes a moment later, and my Stability starts dropping. [Stability 10/10] [Stability 9/10] Time is running out. It might already have run out; I¡¯m definitely bringing back a Stability-failure merge with me when I go through that portal. But that doesn¡¯t matter. ¡°James, warn SHOCKS that it¡¯s going to be a messy extraction.¡± I fire another shot and Smoke Form the next scream. [On it.] James isn¡¯t saying much. He hasn¡¯t started Analyzing the Voiceless Singer. Come to think of it, he hasn¡¯t Analyzed any of the Voiceless Singers. That feels important. I leap over another gap. The beach around me looks less like a place to vacation and more like rotten Swiss cheese. The rest of Lambda-Four¡¯s moving slowly; there¡¯s a few dozen yards of less destroyed sand between me and them. I step back, firing into the Voiceless Singer like that will do something. [Stability 8/10] The truth is that even though I know I can¡¯t win this fight, I think I just need a window¡ªand I can create one of those myself. I replace the empty Inquiry with a new one. ?What¡¯s the best way to wear down a Voiceless Singer? [This is a bad idea, Claire,] James says. I dodge over another pit and keep blasting away. I don¡¯t respond to James. He¡¯s my friend, but right now, I need to stay focused. [Stability 7/10] I do. I focus so hard that my head hurts; James calls out attacks and safe spots as the beach around me disintegrates and I rotate cylinders to gravity shells. The Voiceless Singer surges forward, screaming and raising its song¡¯s volume. I keep firing and drive it back. It hovers over almost solid abyss. There¡¯s no sand left where I¡¯ve been. [Stability 6/10] Behind me, the rest of Lambda-Four keeps retreating. They¡¯ve figured out what¡¯s happening and spread out, leaving three long tears in the ground. It looks like a gigantic bear has ripped the ground apart with its claws. I want to thank them, but I¡¯m out of breath. And worse, the Voiceless Singer doesn¡¯t seem to be trying. It hasn¡¯t tried to hit me with a vision yet. The visions always force my hand. Why hasn¡¯t it tried that yet? I fire another gravity shell. The Revolver fires on an empty chamber, and I switch again, back to the reality skippers. Another Bullet Time. The shots go off, and I start moving. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 17] The scream hits me again like a wave. At the same time, my Determination-granted Stability ticks down. [Stability 4/10] But the vision still doesn¡¯t come. I roll across the sand and pop up. My skin¡¯s bleeding from a dozen holes where grains of blue sand disappeared and tore into my skin. It hurts, but I¡¯m still upright. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 11] I keep backpedaling. The Voiceless Singer keeps moving forward. Nothing I¡¯ve done so far has so much as scratched it¡ªat least, from what I can see. But it¡¯s hesitant now. I breathe heavily, not quite standing still, but walking instead of running. Finally¡ªfinally¡ªit tries a vision. The burning planet fills my mind, and I immediately Soundbreak.
A lot happens in the next ten seconds, and it all happens at once. The vision snaps. The song mutes as my counterpoint hits the void angel. My Stability drops further, and I retreat toward the extraction spot. [Stability 2/10] The Voiceless Singer hits the ground. It hits the ground, and the sand below it goes blue. I¡¯ve got a window¡ªan opportunity. I dash left, putting distance between me and the retreating RST. The only way this is going to work is with perfect timing. The gravity shells go back into the Revolver. I start firing at the sand below the Voiceless Singer¡¯s recovering non-form. None of the shots hit the angel. They catch it, though, holding it over the vanishing sand. I space my shots. All I want to do is hold the Voiceless Singer where it is until the space under it¡¯s done forming. Then I can drop it. It won¡¯t be a victory. Not the one SHOCKS wants, at least. But it¡¯ll save the Recovery and Stabilization Team, and it¡¯ll save me. [Stability 1/10] My breathing picks up, and I have to resist the urge to keep shooting. Instead, I back up, hop over one of the bear claw scratches in the ground, and switch to the fire rounds. My ears ring and my hair stands up as the portal behind me opens. I use Bullet Time once more, firing into the Voiceless Singer. Then I wait for the scream to hit me. [Stability 0/10] The second it does, I¡¯m running. I don¡¯t stop until I¡¯m in front of the portal¡ªpast the RST. They start hooking onto my harness, but I don¡¯t bother with that; I pull their safety lines into one fist, make sure there are four of them, and jump through. I don¡¯t bother seeing what anomaly I¡¯ve ¡®accidentally¡¯ summoned onto the beach. I don¡¯t wait around to see if the Voiceless Singer survives. I just leave.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 14, 2043, 4:51 PM - - - - - The clean-up crew¡¯s already working on the rest of RST Lambda-Four¡¯s puke and the blue sand that¡¯s shredded half the merge generator¡¯s ramp when I land. Munroe¡¯s on a gurney; Rodriguez should be, too, but she¡¯s fighting it tooth and nail, and right now, at least, she¡¯s winning. The rest of the team is still on the ground, and researchers and agents swarm them. I¡¯m alone¡ªat least for now. The calm in the eye of the storm. I sit down. ¡°James, show me the last thirty seconds of the fight.¡± [Replaying the final thirty seconds now,] James says. I watch the Soundbreak. The realization that I¡¯d hurt the thing and my attempt to pressure it into staying down. If it hadn¡¯t been for the terrain, I could have had something there. But I couldn¡¯t have gotten close enough to use Absolution and break it apart. The ground was too shredded. Still, I can¡¯t help shiver in excitement. I had a window, and I took advantage of it. And more importantly, it worked¡ªin theory. The equation is solved. I rescued all the Lambda-Four troopers, solved the haunting of the Pendleton, and escaped. But even more importantly, I beat the Voiceless Singer. Not stalemated it. Not lured it into a trap. Beat it. If I can do it once, I can do it again. It¡¯s about lining up Soundbreaks with their visions. It¡¯s about controlling the battlefield, not trying to do damage. It¡¯s about maintaining my Stability as long as possible to try and outlast an angel. No one tries to stop me as I leave the Experimental Sector. Director Ramirez glances my way, but he¡¯s busy trying to deal with a very amped-up and pissed-off Lieutenant Rodriguez. I¡¯ll be getting a visit from him later. Or maybe a message. But I don¡¯t care. Right now, I want to retreat to my space and keep exploring the Voiceless Singer footage. It¡¯s quiet in my room. The shower sounds great, but one look at the showerhead on its pipe sticking out of the wall, and I shake my head, shivering. Not yet. Maybe later, but not yet. Instead, I bunker down under the covers and watch the fight over and over. Everything has a tell when it wants to attack. Everything reacts when it¡¯s hurt. The Voiceless Singer is no different. By the time I go to sleep, I¡¯ve got it. A weakness that I can exploit. A way to wear them down. It¡¯s not a Truth¡ªnot yet¡ªbut it is a viable theory. Chapter Sixty-One Downtown Victoria, British Columbia - June 15, 2043, 8:04 AM - - - - - Victoria was dead. Alice walked the downtown drag, passing an outdoor shop with a four-pointed star and a broken glass window. It looked like it had been looted, both recently and in the past. L5-1 pointed and made a hand sign. Alice peered inside but couldn¡¯t see anything. She was supposed to be powering up. She¡¯d been powering up, but not the way SHOCKS wanted her to. Not the way she wanted to, either. Lots of combat skills, but no Mergewalk. If it wasn¡¯t Mergewalk, as far as SHOCKS was concerned, it didn¡¯t matter. And if it didn¡¯t help keep Li Mei down, it really didn¡¯t matter to Alice. SHOCKS had a pretty good idea of what Claire had been doing when she got her Mergewalk power, and Alice was supposed to be working on a similar Inquiry. But it hadn¡¯t worked at all in the last week, and today, she was on patrol with Lambda-Five. Again. ¡°L5-6, check it out,¡± L5-1 said. She nodded and stood perfectly still, raising her mental walls until she was confident nothing could possibly smash through them. Her ¡®soldier¡¯ compartment was new, but she was already growing comfortable inside of it. It made sense. It was just a performance; if she said and did the right things, she fit right in¡ªas usual. Besides, the ¡®soldier¡¯ persona gave her strength. So much strength. Enough to face Li Mei and bring her to heel. She lowered the walls around the infovampire. Li Mei surged forward, but she was already there, countering the anomaly¡¯s escape and grabbing her by the conceptual throat. Tell me if there¡¯s any information worth eating in this building: people, security footage, anything like that. Silence. Dealing with Li Mei was never pleasant. Alice hated sharing her mind with the monster, but she was getting used to it¡ªespecially since she was in charge now. That helped. Not much, but it helped. She tightened her grip. What¡¯s in there? Nothing, Li Mei replied. Nothing of real value, and only a little else past that, bestie. Ignoring the infovampire¡¯s attempt to make nice, Alice pointed to the sign and nodded slightly. The text disappeared almost immediately, and the infovampire burped inside her mind. ¡°She says it¡¯s clear. You can check it if you want.¡± L5-1 nodded. ¡°2, 3, get in there and scope the place out. Bring any survivors out, but if you encounter anything past Geren or anything unknown, pull back. L-6, head in there with them.¡± Alice waited for the two Marine-looking guys to go first, then held her pistol in both hands like she¡¯d been taught and followed. She wasn¡¯t a shooter, and she knew it; her strengths were in her powers and her ridiculous Infohazard Resistance. If the RST troopers ran into anything they couldn¡¯t handle, she was screwed. Li Mei said it was safe, though, and the infovampire didn¡¯t want Alice dead. She wanted her under her control, yes, but not dead. ¡°Clear!¡± ¡°Clear!¡± The troopers moved quickly, leaving Alice behind in the main room. Clothes and backpacks lay scattered everywhere, and she started searching as the soldiers moved into the back. Something about it poked at her brain, but it took her a minute before she even knew where to look. Claire was here, Li Mei said suddenly. That was it. Alice saw it now; she¡¯d taken care of her sister for long enough to see the signs. The way some of the clothes were thrown around. The boots that were completely unlaced down to the last eyelet. And the torn and tattered old hoodie in the dressing room. Claire had definitely been here before¡ªbut that would have been weeks ago. I hate her, Li Mei continued. She ruined everything. ¡°I don¡¯t care, Li Mei,¡± Alice replied. The walls went up around the infovampire in her mind, and she picked up the hoodie and shoved it into her backpack. It was hideous¡ªcut into a thousand pieces and covered in rotting plant goop¡ªbut Alice knew it was Claire¡¯s. Whether her sister wanted it back or not, she¡¯d¡­want it back. Claire never left behind a perfectly good, body-obscuring hoodie, and Alice had been looking after her sister long enough to know that. ¡°Contact!¡± The shout came from outside, along with a hail of gunfire. Alice screamed¡ªbut at least this time she screamed quietly as RST Lambda-Five tore apart another 389-T-13/2I. They¡¯d been seeing a lot of them here, and apparently, these were the things Claire had fought at West End High. Alice had no idea how her sister did it. Alice clutched her pistol to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Lambda-Five could handle this. Her job was to use Li Mei¡¯s hunger to check for thinking anomalies, people, or working electronics. Their job was to fight. She really didn¡¯t know how Claire did it.
Lambda-Five was still on the move an hour later. Their contact back at SHOCKS Headquarters, Command-Two, had reports of something happening near the cruise ship docks southwest of them, so the Recovery and Stabilization Team was backtracking. According to Command-Two, holding the docks would allow for civilian evacuations to¡­somewhere. According to James, that was bullshit. [There¡¯s nowhere to go. They¡¯re lying to you, Alice, and you need to understand that. You can trust them to do certain things¡ªkeep you alive, put you in situations where you can grow, and treat you well¡ªbecause they need you and your sister. But you can¡¯t trust them to do the right thing for other people. Their concern is the world, not survivors in Victoria.] She didn¡¯t want to believe him. She didn¡¯t want to believe him. But at the end of the day, she didn¡¯t have a choice. The docks were empty. Completely empty: no ships, no people, no cargo getting loaded to supply the cruises that came up the coast on their way to Alaska or the North Pole or wherever they went. Nothing but two gigantic flat concrete jetties jutting into the ocean. ¡°L5-6, are you picking up anything?¡± L5-1 said. No. Li Mei would have shaken her head if she could, but Alice wasn¡¯t about to give the infovampire that kind of control¡ªnot when she¡¯d been slipping out of the driver¡¯s seat a week or so ago. ¡°No. She says it¡¯s all clear,¡± Alice said. [I¡¯m running additional scans. As far as I can tell, there¡¯s nothing Li Mei would consider informational, but¡­there¡¯s something by the lighthouse. It¡¯s deep, but it¡¯s there.] ¡°James says there¡¯s something out there,¡± she relayed. The Breakwater Lighthouse wasn¡¯t anything like the towering, multistory lighthouses she¡¯d seen in dozens of horror movies, with the spiral staircase leading up to a massive room filled with lenses, lights, and mirrors. This one was barely twenty-five feet tall¡ªlittle more than a funny-shaped spike out at the end of the harbor¡¯s protective breakwater. She pointed at it, and the rest of Lambda-Five watched. Nothing happened. Something should have happened. In all the movies she¡¯d half-watched with Edric, something always happened, and she always jumped. Every. Goddamn. Time. He¡¯d liked to make fun of her for it in the few weeks they¡¯d dated before Dad found out.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. But nothing happened. The water stayed still, and L5-1 marked the location on his HUD. As he did, it appeared on everyone else¡¯s, too. ¡°Command-Two, we have a possible aquatic merge location or something that¡¯s escaped detection methods. It¡¯s close to our URA line, and I believe neutralizing it is in our best interests.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Attempt to identify the anomaly, then proceed from there,¡± Command-Two said. Alice gritted her teeth. They should be leaving sleeping dogs alone. Poking the¡­whatever it was¡­would have consequences. She wanted to avoid those. She¡¯d avoided them so well up until the moment she graduated. ¡°Three, Four, head to the breakwater. Take mobile URAs and the dive-bot with you. We¡¯ll set up here. Two, Five, you¡¯re on heavy weapons. Six, keep your ass safe,¡± L5-1 said. The Lieutenant didn¡¯t have to tell her twice. As the rest of RST Lambda-Five burst into action, she stepped back, putting the half-assembled heavy machine gun between her and the lighthouse.
James kept calling the monster that had erupted from the water and engulfed the lighthouse¡¯s base a Fungal Lord. It was bigger than the single-family homes Alice had always wanted to live in, covered in sheets of half-rotten, half-drenched mold and spores that sloughed off like a jacket sliding off a classroom seat. Meatball-shaped, sort of, with three tentacles. And eyes. Massive eyes the size of beach balls. Three and Four fled across the breakwater, fungus building on their uniforms and breathing masks over their faces. Both had their rifles over their backs. Alice couldn¡¯t blame them; compared to the monster chasing them, they might as well be mosquito suckers. But the heavy machine gun was opening up in ten-round bursts that ripped at Alice¡¯s ears and heart every time L5-2 pulled the trigger, and the rounds burned into the Fungal Lord¡¯s sloughing mold-skin. Chunks flew off into the water as the gun belched a burst of fire two feet long. They¡¯re not accomplishing anything, Li Mei said. Alice paused to watch more closely. In fact, that thing doesn¡¯t care about them at all. Look. It¡¯s not even pursuing the other team members. Li Mei was right. The bullets were only setting fire to the outer layer, and it was so wet they only smoldered instead of lighting the whole monster ablaze. Worse, it looked like it was regenerating spores more quickly than Lambda-Five could damage it. But it also wasn¡¯t moving to chase. Instead, it seemed to be scaling the lighthouse. It was hard to tell, given that it was twice the size of the miniature breakwater lighthouse, and its bulk sagged over each side of the stones below it, but¡­yes, it was trying to climb it. ¡°What is it doing?¡± Alice whispered. [This behavior matches what Claire saw on May 31, the first time this anomaly was encountered. I¡¯m Analyzing.] Alice waited, eyes locked on the monster. James spent a lot of time Analyzing, and he usually had good information afterward. The machine gun kept firing, but she could tell that L5-2 was getting frustrated with the lack of damage¡ªnot to mention burning through their ammunition. Meanwhile, the Fungal Lord had almost completely surrounded the lighthouse; its massive eye stared out across the harbor directly at them. It blinked slowly, and Alice shivered. [Analysis complete. Stop firing.] James¡¯s voice shifted, becoming more computerlike like it did when he talked to SHOCKS directly. [There¡¯s a strong likelihood that the Fungal Lord is not actually intelligent¡ªthat is to say, it¡¯s closer to a jellyfish than a deer. Based on Li Mei¡¯s lack of reaction to it and its lack of response to us every time we¡¯ve encountered one, I believe it is completely encased in fungus with the exception of the tentacles and eye.] ¡°Is it a threat?¡± L5-1 asked as the machine gun stopped and silence filled the air. The sound of waves crashing on the breakwater slowly replaced the ringing in Alice¡¯s ears. [On a long time scale, yes. Its fungus has adapted to the underwater conditions, and it is causing long-term damage to the local biology. It will need to be dealt with eventually. However, it is not an immediate or deliberate threat to SHOCKS or the cruise ship docks.] Alice couldn¡¯t help but stare at the thing. It wasn¡¯t a threat? It wouldn¡¯t hurt her? That didn¡¯t make any sense; the thing was obviously alien¡ªmore alien than Claire or the infovampire in her head. Of course it was a threat. Of course it was dangerous. Even though it didn¡¯t care about her, her whole chest felt like it was about to clamp shut¡ªlike a bear trap closing around her lungs. But L5-1 nodded. ¡°Fine. Five, load up a tracking drone. We¡¯ll ram it right into the thing; that way, we¡¯ll be able to deal with it later, once this all blows over.¡± Something about that tickled Alice¡¯s funny bone, and she burst into laughter.
By the time Lambda-Five¡¯s truck pulled into SHOCKS Headquarters and rolled to a stop in the garage, Alice smelled like eight different kinds of death. But the infectious people in Sooke had agreed to conditions for continued quarantine. She stepped out of the truck and into a stream of greenish disinfectant spray that burned like acid; she could feel her skin drying out and cracking, and she was almost out of moisturizer. Then L5-1 nodded. ¡°Dismissed, troopers. Tomorrow is another day.¡± Every day was another day. It never stopped. It hadn¡¯t stopped since she agreed to act as a ¡®second Claire.¡¯ She fled the garage and retreated to her room before anyone could see the dark look on her face. The current compartment Alice was pulling from¡ªthe soldier¡ªdid everything in a businesslike, serious manner, so the shower she took when she was finally alone got her clean enough in record time. She bunched her hair up in a towel like Mom had taught her to, pulled on a bathrobe, and sat in front of her makeup table. The brushes were precisely where they needed to be, and if she was running low on her favorite foundation, so be it. She had others. And the makeup ritual had to be respected. Alice hadn¡¯t killed anyone yet. Technically. L5-2 had taken the actual shot that exploded that man in a puff of fetid air. And honestly, he¡¯d probably been dead before either of them fired. But she¡¯d meant to kill him. And that¡­didn¡¯t bother her as much as it should. The makeup ritual commenced. Foundation, eye shadow, lipstick so pink she could drown in it through the mirror. She applied her favorite blush quickly, with the confidence of someone who¡¯d done it a thousand times before. And as she did, the soldier went back into its box next to Li Mei¡¯s prison. In its place, Alice became a student again. Student Alice hadn¡¯t tried to kill anyone. Student Alice had a full-ride scholarship to the University of British Columbia¡ªjust across the Strait of Georgia. It¡¯d be close enough that she could get home but far enough away to be separate. The perfect distance. Claire could take care of herself for a while. She was certainly capable of it now. Alice was ready to move on and be her own person. To double-major in telecommunications and journalism. She had it all planned out. She was not here to be a killer. She was here to ride out whatever her sister had done, to get Li Mei out of her head, and to move on with her life. Soldier Alice ¡ªand Anomalous Alice¡ªwere both necessary evils, but she¡¯d shelf them forever the moment college started. If college ever started. September looked like an impossibility right now. L5-1¡¯s insistence that they¡¯d be able to deal with the Fungal Lord once ¡°all this blew over¡± felt the same. Planning for an uncertain and unlikely future. But Student Alice had always planned for unlikely futures, and she¡¯d always made them happen. So, first, get rid of Li Mei. Then, conquer the world.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 15, 2043, 1:51 PM - - - - - Lambda-Four¡¯s not looking so good. The therapists have decided that Daley¡¯s not in any shape to enter another reality right now, and neither is Rodriguez. She¡¯s furious. Absolutely furious. If she could blow up Director Ramirez with her mind, she would¡ªand he keeps looking at her like a puppy dog she just kicked. But the therapists are right. They both went through hell yesterday, emotionally and mentally, and they don¡¯t have my resistance. And with Munroe out for¡­basically ever, unless SHOCKS can grow legs back, it¡¯s looking like this mission is just Strauss and me. Director Ramirez is determined to make this work, so Strauss is, once again, hooked up to my back with a strap and carabiner. The drone¡¯s a lot simpler this time. Ramirez doesn¡¯t think we¡¯re here to hunt a Voiceless Singer. He just wants to target the right reality this time¡ªto prove that his system¡¯s controllable and able to land us where we want to go. That¡¯s fine with me. He can think whatever he wants to think. I¡¯m happy to pair up with Sergeant Strauss, though, because he¡¯s a rule-bender. And because I am here to hunt a Voiceless Singer. I¡¯ve got the tools now. I can hurt them. And if I can hurt them, I can kill them¡ªor bring one in. Like that one movie, if it bleeds, I can kill it. SHOCKS needs them to try to stop Merge Prime. I just want to know the Truth, and they¡¯re either the ones who know it or they¡¯re standing in my way. Either is fine. Either way, I¡¯ll get stronger. Strauss nods. ¡°L4-3, you and me again.¡± ¡°Yep.¡± The last time we were paired up, we didn¡¯t get along so well. Our missions were¡­aligned, but not exactly complimentary. He was opposition, but not an enemy. Also, he shot me. With a stun bullet. I¡¯m willing to forgive him for that, though. ¡°L4-5, you¡¯re in command of this mission. Do your best to keep L4-3 in one piece,¡± Ramirez says. ¡°The goal is a quick hop into a different reality to confirm it¡¯s the target destination, then a return here. If it works, we¡¯ll repurpose Lambda-Five for future merge incursions and put Lambda-Four on local Victoria security.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Strauss mutters. I get it. Lambda-Five¡¯s not Lambda-Four, and I don¡¯t trust them. From what I¡¯ve seen of them, they¡¯re the second-rate team¡ªthey were doing security in Sooke, and they were supposed to catch the burning man, but neither of those things went well. I get the feeling Strauss doesn¡¯t trust them, either. ¡°L5-3, you have the discretion to attempt a capture or post-destruction recovery of any Voiceless Singers you encounter in this reality, provided you tell us before you engage so we can give you a merge to fall back through. Your priorities are keeping yourself alive, keeping Sergeant Strass alive, and capturing or killing a Voiceless Singer, in descending order. Understood?¡± Director Ramirez asks. He¡¯s gotten so much more serious, and there¡¯s a hint of anger in his voice. ¡°Got it,¡± I say. ¡°Good. Stand by for deployment.¡±
Li Mei hadn¡¯t eaten so well in weeks. But Alice was still starving her. Something had to change. But no matter how hard she struggled against her prison, it only grew stronger around her. What could she do? She had to do something. Anything. Something had to change. For now, all she could do was hoard her strength like a miser with coins. But soon. Soon, an opportunity would present itself. And when it did, things would change. Chapter Sixty-Two I actually tried out for the middle school soccer team at Landsdowne. That was the first time I met Alice¡¯s best friend, Candice. She was a year younger than my sister. Maybe she still is; I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s survived this or not. Truthfully, I hope she did. Lying my ass off, I don¡¯t care. The point is that I tried out, and Candice was a bitch even at thirteen. I wanted to be keeper. She kept saying I was too short. She wouldn¡¯t defend if I was keeper. On and on. She wanted me at forward. Back-up forward. On the bench or as far away from her as she could get me. I found out later that she was Alice¡¯s friend. That stung. When the call came that I didn¡¯t make the team, I didn¡¯t even bother picking up.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - Strauss lands on his feet. He starts to double over, then pulls himself together and nods. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± He doesn¡¯t look good. He looks like he¡¯s about to vomit all over everything. The rover¡¯s wheels spin mournfully as we work to right it; it bounced funny when we came through, but it¡¯s not damaged or anything. Sergeant Strauss and I have everything we need to make this exploration quick. More importantly, we¡¯re in the right spot. I know we are because everything¡¯s slightly too orange-yellow. Because the sun overhead says it is. And most importantly, because even though glass-and-steel skyscrapers tower over Strauss and me, their windows glinting in the sun, the world is dark and desolate. There are no vehicles on the streets, no lights in the buildings, and no one looking down at us from the too-close-together windows. Strauss opens up the comms channel. ¡°Command, L4-5. We¡¯ve arrived at the landing zone.¡± ¡°Copy that, Lambda-Four. JAMES Unit, please analyze¡ª¡° [Analysis complete. New reality cataloged; labeled as Provisional Reality ARC. Estimated likelihood of correct merge targeting: 94% and rising. Estimated probability of Voiceless Singer activity: 04%,] James says. ¡°Four percent?¡± Strauss asks. [This location is abandoned,] James says, [and I recommend we pull back and recalibrate for a different one. It is unlikely that we will complete any secondary objectives here.] ¡°Negative,¡± Command says. ¡°Explore the surrounding environment. Try to make sure the ¡®landing zone¡¯ is safe. If it is, we¡¯ll pull you back and move Lambda-Five in to begin hunting with L4-3.¡± ¡°Copy,¡± Strauss says, and the line goes dead. ¡°Fucking hell.¡± We walk down the street, me in front by about ten meters, him behind, with the rover humming along like it¡¯s on vacation between us. The Revolver¡¯s ready, and so is Strauss¡¯s rifle; it feels a lot like our time in Aberdeen Hospital and the maze¡ªexcept this time, he¡¯s not shooting me. No way. He needs me alive. Besides, we¡¯re on the same team. I can trust him. There¡¯s something wrong about the skyscrapers, but it takes me a minute to figure out what it is. Then it hits me; they¡¯re short. Whoever lived here, I mean. The towers are plenty tall, but there¡¯s no way the people who made them were taller than me. Strauss would be a giant here. Gas vents from a¡­vent¡­in the street. I sniff, and it smells like potpourri. Not one flower, but a dozen at the same time. There¡¯s a sewage stink, too, and it only makes the flower scent more sickly sweet by comparison. It¡¯s dead here. The whole thing would remind me of the God in the Machine¡¯s reality¡ªbut it¡¯s so alive at the same time. Black vines cover the spaces between the steel towers¡¯ windows. They¡¯re almost spectral, and it takes me a second to realize¡ªthey¡¯re void, just like the Voiceless Singers. ¡°James, what are the current reality levels here?¡± I ask. [Extremely high, for the most part. I don¡¯t have data on the upper reaches of the towers, though, and the local flora and fauna¡¯s reality levels are almost nonexistent. They match what we¡¯ve seen from the Voiceless Singers so far.] ¡°And do we have any idea why?¡± [Why what?] I pause. ¡°Why reality levels are so extreme here, I guess? I¡¯m looking to fill in variables.¡± [No. Further research is needed.] ¡°Okay.¡± I level the Revolver and send a beam of fire into one of the skyscrapers¡¯ doors. It shatters, molten crystal flying everywhere. Strauss reacts instantly, rifle on his shoulder. ¡°Contact?¡± ¡°No. Clearing a path for us. I¡¯ll call it next time,¡± I say, flushing red. I step through the broken glass door and into the lobby; even though it¡¯s high enough for me¡ªbarely¡ªI feel like I have to crouch. One of Sora¡¯s books talks about this. Frank Lloyd Wright called it compress and release architecture¡ªmake people feel claustrophobic, then release them into a more open space. Only there¡¯s no release. Strauss is bent over at the waist, rifle jammed forward. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± ¡°We need to figure out why reality levels are so out of control. James, can you get a timer until reality levels become a problem for Strauss?¡± I force myself to stand up straight since I can. Strauss isn¡¯t so lucky. Even if he tried, he¡¯d fail. [Two hours, fifteen minutes. More if he remains indoors, and even more if he activates his personal reality anchor.] The world feels like Jell-O for a second. It shimmers like a thinning, and I breathe to calm myself. Then it stops. ¡°Copy that. PRA running. Two-hour run-time, then we should consider other options.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I go into my System and add a new Inquiry. ?Why is the Voiceless Singers¡¯ city empty? It¡¯s an important question and one I don¡¯t have an answer for. Yet. I head for the stairs, Strauss at my back. He¡¯s talking into his helmet, and he looks pissed off. The steps aren¡¯t high enough, and they¡¯re too wide; it takes three flights to get between even the short, stubby floors, and it feels more like climbing a ramp. By the third floor, Strauss slings his rifle over his shoulder. He¡¯s sweating. So am I. It¡¯s humid in here. The void vines have broken through the walls in places. They hum. I give them a wide berth, just in case. On the fifth floor, I finally give up. I¡¯ve climbed fifteen flights of stairs, and the truth is that stairs won¡¯t help me solve this world¡¯s math. ¡°I¡¯m finding an elevator.¡±
Some things are the same across realities. The moment I push what I hope is the button for the highest floor, the muzak starts. I wonder if muzak is actually a memetic anomaly. It¡¯s pervasive, both catchy and forgetful at the same time, and it sounds the same here as in Victoria. I bet it sounded the same in the God in the Machine¡¯s reality and the infinite war one. Probably the maze world, too, if it had elevators. Maybe even in Berlin. ¡°What are we doing?¡± Strauss asks. He¡¯s sitting on the floor as we move slowly up. ¡°We¡¯re exploring, investigating the Voiceless Singers, and trying to find a secure merge zone for future expeditions,¡± I say before Command can interject. ¡°Affirmative. Your current orders are to avoid contact with hostile anomalies whenever possible, Lambda-Four. Continue your investigation,¡± Command says. The door opens, and I step into what looks like a computer lab¡ªor maybe one of those internet cafes I¡¯ve seen in old movies and stuff. No, that¡¯s not right. It tickles the back of my mind. I¡¯ve been somewhere like this before, but I can¡¯t place it. It¡¯s not the lab in the Experimental Sector, and it¡¯s not like the God in the Machine¡¯s temple tower.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Strauss can¡¯t place it either, but he pulls out his bag and starts checking computer hook-ups. After a second, he gives up. ¡°There¡¯s no wires. I don¡¯t need a USB port, but I do need a wire. Some input to the system.¡± He¡¯s right. There¡¯s not a single wire in the whole lab. The computers sit there, screens gray and tall, narrow towers looming over them. They¡¯re just boxes, though. I have no idea how to power them up, much less get them to work. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± The computers represent a nearly infinite amount of information about this world, but at the same time, they¡¯re worthless to us. We can¡¯t make them work. I tap a screen, just in case they¡¯re touchscreen. Maybe they¡¯ll talk about how much of a heretic I am, like the last time I played with another reality¡¯s computers. Maybe it¡¯ll be an AI we can communicate with. Nothing happens. For all intents and purposes, the computers are very expensive paperweights. The room¡¯s surrounded on two sides by a thin, wide window that runs the length of the walls like a corner office. I walk over to it and peer outside. We must be three hundred feet up; there were at least fifty buttons in the elevator, and I pushed the one that looked like it was the highest. It¡¯s so high I can barely see the road below. It¡¯s just a road¡ªa whitish cement that somehow manages to still look dark even under the yellow sun¡¯s brilliant glow. Shadows flit across it, but there¡¯s nothing in the air¡ªor on the street. Then, suddenly, there is. It¡¯s null and void, just like the Voiceless Singers. This one doesn¡¯t have the shape of an angel, and I can¡¯t hear the song¡ªif there even is one. It¡¯s hard to say what it is from up here. It¡¯s easier to say what it¡¯s not. It isn¡¯t human. It¡¯s not animal-like, either, and it doesn¡¯t have the angelic wings of a Voiceless Singer. It doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯s hunting us, but it¡¯s also not leaving. It parks its not-form in front of the door and slowly slumps into the concrete until its not-body is not here. But it is. It definitely is. ¡°Think it knows we¡¯re here?¡± Strauss asks. ¡°I could hit it with a few rounds, do the reconnaissance by fire routine, but that¡¯ll tip it off for sure.¡± ¡°I stare at it a bit longer. ¡°James, thoughts?¡± [I¡¯m not processing that thing. I¡¯m not processing anything that has to do with the Voiceless Singers after your vision video. Plus, that thing¡¯s¡­not a meme? It¡¯s hard to describe.] A few filters flicker across my vision, but they don¡¯t help. [Uh, let me think for a second¡ªI¡¯m on to something here. Rerouting processing loops¡ªbut if they go to hell, I¡¯m cutting them off instantly.] James goes quiet. Whatever¡¯s going on, it¡¯s taxing even him. I keep staring at the not-form, trying to wrap my head around it. It doesn¡¯t help. Strauss doesn¡¯t have that problem. ¡°To change the subject, you¡¯re familiar with memes from our previous mission, correct?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re likely dealing with an antimemetic entity. Its presentation is designed to make it difficult to describe and even more difficult to remember." He doesn¡¯t look away from¡­whatever it is. ¡°There are some simple countermeasures, but they rely on constant reminders that the antimeme is nearby.¡± ¡°Got it. James, can you do that?¡± [Strauss is correct. Setting external reminders. I¡¯ve enlisted Command 2 to assist.] ¡°Not Command?¡± I ask. ¡°No. Command it likely compromised in the same way we are, and they¡¯re doing something similar to what we are,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Standard protocol for antimemes.¡± [Claire, this is for you alone. Strauss already knows, but antimemetic entities are rarely only antimemetic. They often pair with a physical anomaly, but occasionally with a meme. If it¡¯s a memetic/antimemetic, purging the meme itself will be impossible if it gets in your head because to deal with it, we¡¯d have to be aware of the antimeme for an extended period of time. It¡¯s likely that this anomaly is highly dangerous, and I¡¯d recommend we avoid fighting it.] I glance out the window again. It¡¯s not attacking the building. It¡¯s not moving at all, in fact. This way of thinking about whatever it is hurts my brain. It¡¯s the wrong kind of equation, where I¡¯m brute-forcing the variables until something works. This isn¡¯t how math is supposed to be, but without any useful information about it, I don¡¯t have any other options. ¡°Lambda-Four, Command here. New mission objective. We¡¯ve confirmed that this is the Voiceless Singers¡¯ home reality. We¡¯ve also identified at least ten thousand Singer-sized bodies in low orbit around the planet. They appear to be in a flock formation, and also appear to be dormant. Based on that, we believe you and Sergeant Strauss have the time in-reality to investigate why they weren¡¯t on-planet.¡± I roll my eyes. Leave it to SHOCKS to tack on goals this early. ¡°How much time do we have?¡± [Two hours, forty-five minutes in cover. Less if Strauss is exposed to the sun.] ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, then,¡± I say.
The first order of business is the computers. I glance at the window as Strauss and I set up near the closest one, but there¡¯s nothing out there. It¡¯s boxy, ugly, and the screen is gray-black and clearly off. Strauss starts out by flicking through a few dozen different settings on his faceplate. ¡°Ultraviolet? Nothing. Infrared? No. Relief? No.¡± Eventually, he gives up and starts fishing through his bag. ¡°So, it¡¯s not a different spectrum or way of projecting information visually. There¡¯s no input, and no clear power source. That leaves me with only one option.¡± His lip curls up in a tiny grin. ¡°I¡¯m going to hack the computer.¡± I¡¯ve seen enough movies to know what hacking isn¡¯t. He¡¯s not about to plug into the device with his aug and fight virtual kill programs for the machine¡¯s secrets. He¡¯s probably looking for a keyboard or something to remotely control the¡ª ¡°Got it,¡± Strauss says. I stare as he unfolds a collapsible saw and starts slicing away at the tower¡¯s plastic. ¡°Hacking commencing.¡± [Command Two says there¡¯s an antimemetic entity outside your building,] James says, distracting me as Strauss hacks the computer into pieces. [Command Two also says it¡¯s not currently a threat, and not to engage.] ¡°I¡¯ll check it out.¡± The window¡¯s right there, and I look down, seeing the monster below for the first time. It¡¯s null and void, easier to describe by what it¡¯s not than what it is¡ªor maybe by the space it occupies. I watch it until I get bored, then go back to Strauss. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± he says, the shadow of a grin on his face. It¡¯s juxtaposed against his serious eyes. He¡¯s made that joke before. He¡¯s got the computer¡¯s guts spread out on the floor; they¡¯re cut into rough chunks. ¡°JAMES Unit, please analyze the footage I recorded of disassembly. I¡¯m looking for ways to interface with a computer using these parts.¡± [Analyzing.] I grab a part and start fiddling. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like the God in the Machine¡¯s pneumatic computer system, is it?¡± ¡°The what?¡± Strauss asks. ¡°I fought a god the day before SHOCKS called me.¡± I tell him about the God in the Machine and the pneumatic system it used for computing. At the end, he rolls his eyes. ¡°Other realities have the most difficult ways of storing information. That does give me an idea, though.¡± He walks to a computer and starts tapping the screen case. [Analysis complete. Sergeant Strauss, these computers operate via direct neurological link to their user,] James says smugly. [They¡¯re similar to our augments, but in this case, significantly more powerful and less mobile. I¡¯m working on understanding the linking process, but it doesn¡¯t bear any similarity to the augment installation process.] ¡°So we¡¯re not going to physically connect these computers to us? That¡¯s a real shame. I was looking forward to becoming the Girl in the Machine,¡± I say. Then I pause. ¡°How does it work?¡± [I think it¡¯s chemical.] ¡°Chemical?¡± Strauss asks. [Yes. The key appears to be a chemical formula, although I¡¯m still translating exactly what it is based on the numbers in the elevator. I believe I have an idea for how to break into the computers. It¡¯ll require returning to R-0 for a while before a new Mergewalk. I¡¯ll assist SHOCKS VVI in synthesizing the chemical and determining how to use it¡ªalthough my theory is that it¡¯s a chemical-based language revolving around ingesting compounds. That isn¡¯t without risks, and I would prefer to put the pressure on someone other than L4-3, as her anomalies are currently irreplaceable.] ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Strauss says instantly. [Negative. I believe L4-3¡¯s sister is the best candidate, as she had been developing similar resistances to Claire¡¯s via the System.]
Downtown Victoria, British Columbia - June 15, 2043, 3:51 PM - - - - - It takes Command five minutes to get the merge open and for us to return to R-0. The moment we do, I head for Alice¡¯s room. This whole thing feels like a set-up, but I¡¯m not sure what James is trying to do. Why couldn¡¯t Strauss take the chemical key James won¡¯t stop talking about? Other than that it¡¯ll probably kill him, whereas it only might kill Alice. If James is worried about me surviving, does he see her as expendable? Either way, I want to talk to her about it. She¡¯s in. In fact, she¡¯s just finishing her makeup ritual when I burst in; she¡¯s wrapped in towels, and her face is almost perfect. It makes her glare even worse, somehow. Even more penetrating. ¡°What, Claire?¡± ¡°I, uh, need your help,¡± I say, ¡°but it¡¯s super-dangerous, and James won¡¯t let me do it. He says you¡¯re the best person for the job.¡± I know how to butter her up; we¡¯ve been siblings for a long time. ¡°What is it?¡± she asks again. I explain. She rolls her eyes at me. ¡°You want me to eat alien food?¡± ¡°Uh, maybe? I¡¯m not sure.¡± ¡°And if I do, I go to another world and act as your computer translator, then come back here again?¡± She stands up and heads for her dresser. The towel around her hair falls off as she picks out her outfit from a dozen white shirts and slacks that all seem identical but that she insists aren¡¯t. ¡°You know how ridiculous all this is, right?¡± ¡°Is that a no?¡± I ask. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s a yes, though. I need something from you.¡± She slips into the bathroom, and I flop onto her bed, giving her a little privacy. She leaves the door open, and I look away. The silence stretches until it¡¯s awkward. ¡°What do you need?¡± ¡°Li Mei.¡± I roll my eyes. It¡¯s always about Li Mei with Alice, isn¡¯t it? ¡°I can¡¯t get her out of your head. You¡¯re bonded with her, and if SHOCKS can¡¯t figure out how to get rid of her, I definitely can¡¯t.¡± She¡¯s quiet for a minute, except for the sounds of her getting dressed. Then she sticks her damp, tangled hair out of the bathroom. ¡°Get in here and help me with this.¡± She could handle this without me, but I don¡¯t have a choice. I sigh and stand up, then join her in the bathroom. She¡¯s sitting on the toilet lid, back facing me, and she passes me a brush. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one that wants my help. The least you can do is listen to what I need. Maybe you¡¯ll have some ideas that James hasn¡¯t tried.¡± I start brushing as she talks. ¡°I¡¯m about ready to give up on having her gone. She¡¯s pretty much the most insistent, pervasive roommate I can imagine, and nothing SHOCKS has tried has made a dent.¡± That¡¯s not a surprise, given what SHOCKS attempted with me. ¡°So?¡± ¡°I want time without her.¡± I laugh. ¡°You want time without her? That¡¯s not¡­¡± I trail off instead of telling Alice that it isn¡¯t possible. It might be doable, but it¡¯ll be weird. ¡°Actually, I have an idea. Remember when we were kids, and I¡¯d crawl into your bunk because I was scared?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Alice says. ¡°My room, tonight. If I¡¯m right, I have something to show you.¡± I pause, setting the brush down. Alice¡¯s hair is half-tangled still, but I don¡¯t care. ¡°And bring your best manners. Our host seems to be very formal. And French.¡± Chapter Sixty-Three SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 15, 2043, 9:41 PM - - - - - Alice pulled on her pajamas in Claire¡¯s bathroom, even though the night was still young. It wasn¡¯t like she had anything else to do here. She could stay up and argue with Li Mei or go to sleep and try whatever Claire wouldn¡¯t tell her about. The choice was easy, even if she was second-guessing it now. The sleeping pills she¡¯d gotten from Itsuki were long gone; SHOCKS had replaced them with something both more potent and less illicit. She dry-swallowed one, finished brushing her teeth, and stared at her mismatched eyes in the mirror. Li Mei stared back at her through one of them. She swallowed. The pill tasted like bitter chalk, but her sister insisted that this would work. Alice wasn¡¯t so sure. Honestly, it all seemed like bullshit. Claire wouldn¡¯t¡ªor couldn¡¯t¡ªtell her what was going on. She sat on the bed, talking animatedly with James, her brow in a scowl. Alice watched her lips move faster and faster. Claire had never been good at concealing how she really felt, and right now, she was furious with the not-quite artificial intelligence in her head. This wouldn¡¯t work. Claire was just being a weirdo again. Alice strolled to the bed and crawled under the covers, being sure to sleep entirely on her side of the full mattress and let Claire have her own space. But to her surprise, Claire¡¯s hand slipped around hers. She turned her head to look; her little sister stared straight up at the ceiling. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we have to touch to make this work. I¡¯ve never done it before, but anything that lets Madame Baudelaire know you¡¯re with me will help. I hope.¡± ¡°Whatever,¡± Alice said. The SHOCKS-approved sleeping pill hit her like a truck, and she was out within five minutes, Claire¡¯s fingers still entwined with her own. She didn¡¯t catch Claire continuing to stare at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity before sleep finally took her, too.
The Mindscape - - - - - You wake up. The garden¡¯s the same as you left it. It¡¯s been a long time since you visited; days, or maybe even a week. But nothing¡¯s changed. It¡¯s almost like the world in your head stops worlding the moment you leave. This place isn¡¯t real, and the brick wall around it doesn¡¯t block off a busy city street or tranquil forest. It blocks off the not-gray void. But¡­no. Something has changed. There¡¯s a gate¡ªa wrought-iron gate perhaps six feet tall¡ªin the wall. It¡¯s rusted but not ugly. Someone rusted it on purpose. Mme. Baudelaire rusted it on purpose. And outside the garden, looking in, is a person. The figure¡¯s hooded and robed, but this could be only one person. You¡¯ve only ever invited one person into your Mindscape because even though she¡¯s a liar and a fake, you trust her. You had no choice when you were a kid, and you have no choice now. You reach for the gate. The keyhole isn¡¯t rusted, but the handle won¡¯t turn. It¡¯s locked, and your sister¡¯s outside of your little sanctuary. {Mademoiselle, I have taken security measures in order to keep an interloper out,} Mme. Baudelaire says in her servile yet in-control French accent. {The visitor cannot come inside.} You shake your head. You go to argue with the woman running your deepest, safest sanctum. This isn¡¯t an interloper¡ªAlice didn¡¯t break into your mind. She¡¯s a guest, and one of the few people you trust. Even when you don¡¯t want to. Even when she doesn¡¯t deserve it. {Oui, mademoiselle, that is the problem. The Mindscape matches your needs, your comforts, and this person, this interloper, does many things. However, none of them are comfortable for you. If she is here, you will find that she is more of a burden than a relief, and you already carry so many of them. Let her find her own place of refuge., mademoiselle.} Madame Baudelaire is right. You know she¡¯s right. And bringing Alice here is a decision with a thousand risks. Li Mei would kill to have access to this space. SHOCKS, and the System would, too. They can never know about it¡ªever. Even leaving your sister outside the walls is a risk almost too dangerous to contemplate. But leaving her in the cold void isn¡¯t acceptable, and you¡¯re already this far in. You have the Mindscape. You have James. Surely, you can share some of that. {You can. In the end, the sanctum you have created is yours. I facilitated it, and I will guard it for you until it cannot be guarded. However, the interloper is too much of a risk. I urge you not to open the gate for her.} She speaks the words, but at the same time, a silver key appears on the bench. Its bow is shaped like the Revolver¡¯s cylinder, precisely the same size as the gun you left behind when you drifted off to sleep. It¡¯s warm, and it glows with a faint orange light. It, like this world, is an illusion. It¡¯s something you created in your mind. You pick up the key. It¡¯s warm¡ªalmost too warm. As you roll it back and forth between your fingers, you think about the gate and the hooded and robed figure on the far side. Is Mme. Baudelaire right to keep her out? Who might be a better guest than your sister? Sora? She¡¯s the only person you trust absolutely. But no. Sora doesn¡¯t need this. She needs to remain your friend, and that means boundaries¡ªfor her sake more than yours. If you want to be friends on the other side, the equation is clear. Sora shouldn¡¯t be allowed in. James, then? He needs this. A place where he could be James without the System. No, a place where he could be Sidney. Where he could abandon his responsibilities for a while. But your boundaries are there for a reason; you can¡¯t trust the System. It doesn¡¯t care about your best interests. If you can¡¯t trust the System, you can¡¯t trust James. Not as far as you can throw him. Alice needs to come in. You walk to the gate. The key fits perfectly. It turns without any effort on your part at all, and the rusty gate swings open. The hooded figure stands outside. Rain pours off of her in sheets, and you realize two things. First, she¡¯s not wearing a robe. It¡¯s a yellow raincoat¡ªthe kind that has its own hood and goes down to her ankles. The pink rain boots look ridiculous underneath, with the flowers and rainbows all over them. She¡¯s covered them with stickers. And second, she¡¯s not even five feet tall.
You stare at your sister, mind racing. What are you supposed to do now? The seconds pass, and your face flushes. She goes to say something. To turn around and disappear into the not-black emptiness. Instead, you step aside, put a hand around her tiny shoulders, and lead her into the sunny, late-spring garden. She stares at the flowers and the bench, enthralled. When you shut the gate behind her, it creaks loudly, and turning the key takes more effort than it should. It clicks shut. Then the Mindscape¡¯s secure again, and you leave the key on the bench. It disappears a moment later. The raincoat comes off. Alice is wearing denim shorts and a pink T-shirt that looks like it¡¯s almost too small for her. It¡¯s almost time for it to be handed down to her little sister. To you. She wanders the garden for a while, quietly smelling the flowers and watching the gentle afternoon breeze rustle the giant oaks¡¯ leaves. She doesn¡¯t say anything; she just smiles. And the whole time, you stare. She¡¯s eight years old. Why is she eight years old here? You go to ask Mme. Baudelaire.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. {je suis d¨¦sol¨¦, mademoiselle. I apologize, but she is not something I made, and she was not brought here to comfort you but to be a burden. I did warn you.} That isn¡¯t an answer, but she says nothing more. The answer comes slowly, but without an equation. She¡¯s eight. You were five. Not four, and not six. Five. The moment¡¯s burned into your mind so intensely that, when given an opportunity to relive your ideal moment, you picked the last day. Twice. That says something about you. And it says something about Alice, because that day changed her, too. There¡¯s only one answer. This is Alice. Not Soldier Alice or Valedictorian Alice, and certainly not Soccer Star Alice. Just Alice. Your little big sister reaches out and puts her hand in yours. She asks you about the house. You hesitate. Mme. Baudelaire was right. Of course she was right. Alice will be a burden¡ªone that¡¯s more crushing than any you¡¯ve carried to this place. But your sister needs you. You invite her inside. She curls up in your high-backed armchair, looking at you and waiting. And in that moment, you know what you have to do. You find a book. It¡¯s about an elephant and a piglet. It¡¯s too young for your sister¡ªtoo easy. But that¡¯s not the point. The point is that Alice¡ªthis Alice¡ªhad to set these moments aside when she was eight. You push her out of the way, making room for yourself. Then, as she melts into your lap, you read your sister a story.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 6:13 AM - - - - - I wake up. It¡¯s been a long night; Alice doesn¡¯t sleep like a princess¡ªunless you count that one from Frozen¡ªand I ended up in one corner of the bed. Worse, she¡¯s still got my hand in a death grip. But even though I didn¡¯t sleep much, and I need the bathroom bad, I feel really well-rested. I extricate myself from my sister¡¯s grasp¡ªshe¡¯s like a god-damned Pacific Octopus, with what feels like too many fingers that just. Won¡¯t. Stop. Holding. My. Hand. Then I stand and head for the bathroom. The computer beeps. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It¡¯s time. Alice gets five more minutes of sleep, but when she fights me, I pull the blankets off her and push her off the bed. That Alice might have needed a big sister she never had, but this one? This one needs to wake up before we¡¯re late. She fights me on it, then drags her bed-head ass to the bathroom while I get dressed out here. It takes her a minute since this isn¡¯t her usual space. Then, suddenly, she¡¯s gone. I nod knowingly. Last night was the first time anyone¡¯s seen her without some sort of mask on in a decade. She needs to put on a new one. I wait ten minutes¡ªten long, agonizing minutes¡ªthen grab her from her room and drag her to the operational planning room. [Good morning, Claire and Alice,] James says on the way there. [I was right.] ¡°About what?¡± [The Voiceless Singers¡¯ language. There are two separate ones¡ªpossibly more, but two we care about. One is the songs and visions. It¡¯s an informal way for them to communicate quickly. Think of how you talk to your friends and stuff. But the other way is much more interesting. Instead of using written language, they use chemical compounds to communicate big ideas and then ingest them. It creates perfect clarity of understanding¡ªsomething we lack. Well, they did.] ¡°Did?¡± I ask. [Did. Both my Analysis and SHOCKS¡¯s observations point toward that city having been abandoned at least a decade ago. We¡¯ll be the first to turn on those computers in at least that long. Hopefully, they¡¯re worth the effort.] My sister walks quietly. Her hand¡¯s in mine again, and she smiles shyly. There¡¯s something¡ªa hint of the real Alice. Then her hand¡¯s gone, and she¡¯s serious, and I can¡¯t help but think about the hours we spent on my chair in my Mindscape, and how that¡¯s the real Alice, and how she hasn¡¯t let herself be that person because she couldn¡¯t and she still can¡¯t. And how it¡¯s just not fair. But what¡¯s fair doesn¡¯t matter here. What¡¯s happening does. We reach the operational planning room, and I open the door. Alice doesn¡¯t let go of my hand. Lambda-Four¡¯s there¡ªStrauss, Daley, and Lieutenant Rodriguez. So is all of Lambda-Five. They¡¯re intact, and they look both more and less nervous than Lambda-Four. The rest of the room is packed; there are a dozen researchers, a handful of agents, and, of course, Director Ramirez. He¡¯s up front. We¡¯re the last to arrive. ¡°Thank you for joining us, ladies,¡± Ramirez says. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡± He introduces the teams first. I already know Strauss, Daley, and Rodriguez, and I don¡¯t bother learning the Lambda-Five guys¡¯ names. They¡¯re pretty similar to Lambda-Four, except instead of Strauss¡ªwho specializes in R-0 tech solutions to problems¡ªthey¡¯ve got L5-4. She¡¯s an anomalous tech expert. Maybe she¡¯s going to eat the weird¡­whatever it is that James cooked up last night. He hasn¡¯t said a word about it this morning, so I know it¡¯s gonna be bad. ¡°The current situation is as follows. Yesterday, scouting elements of Lambda-Four discovered a number of computers in Provisional Reality ARC. On further examination, they determined its method of activation and retreated to¡­¡± blah, blah, blah. On and on Ramirez goes. He¡¯s reading from typed notes, but I already know everything he¡¯s saying. As I tune him out, I watch Alice. She¡¯s nervous. She¡¯s trying not to be, and to anyone but me, she¡¯d look like an island in a sea of chaos and confusion, but she¡¯s on the edge of freaking out. She hasn¡¯t said anything about my Mindscape, either, but she reaches out, grabs my hand, and squeezes. Then she lets go. Ramirez keeps going, but now he¡¯s getting into some new stuff. ¡°Our next window to enter Provisional Reality ARC is in one hour, twenty-one minutes. We¡¯re sending both Lambda-Four¡ªminus L4-2, who is out of commission¡ªand Lambda-Five. Alice Pendleton will be serving as L5-6, with the goal of interfacing with the anomalous computer and finding a way to gain non-anomalous control over its information.¡± ¡°Sir,¡± Daley says, raising his hand. ¡°She¡¯s got the infovampire inside her, right? How can we be sure the information on the far side will be safe?¡± [I believe with eighty-five percent certainty that Alice Pendleton has complete control over Li Mei at this time, and with ninety-seven percent certainty that she could prevent said infovampire from destroying any vital intelligence in any situation,] James answers before Ramirez can. ¡°As the JAMES Unit said, we¡¯ve been deploying L5-6 into combat situations and informational recovery missions for the last week, and Li Mei hasn¡¯t been able to so much as try to assert control. Correct, Alice?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she says, her words clipped. She¡¯s got a new mask on. She¡¯s faking like she¡¯s a trooper. I try hard not to roll my eyes. I fail. ¡°While L5-4 and L5-6 work on extracting any usable data, the rest of Lambda-Five will create a secured beachhead in the skyscraper. Lambda-Four has its own task, and in order to secure our foothold, theirs must succeed.¡± Director Ramirez says. ¡°There is an unknown entity in Provisional Reality ARC. We have been unable to determine any of said entity¡¯s properties, including size, shape, anomaly or anomalies, and so on. We¡¯re assuming it has a powerful antimemetic. Our team¡¯s task is to study, engage, and either contain or neutralize it.¡± Daley interrupts again. This time, he doesn¡¯t raise his hand. ¡°How?¡± That¡¯s an excellent question. According to James, there could be as many as twenty to thirty antimemetic anomalies on Earth right now. It¡¯s almost impossible to contain them, and unless they¡¯re an aggressive, predatory threat, SHOCKS rarely even tries. Even when SHOCKS succeeds at containment, all it takes is one mistake to lose track of an antimeme. It¡¯s happened before, but no one¡¯s really sure how many times. ¡°We¡¯ve gone through our records, and Command Two and Command Two A will be running your side of the operation once the room¡¯s secure and Lambda-Five is working on the computer. Command Two A¡¯s strategy is as follows: they will only have voice communications with your team. They will not be able to see, listen to, or react to your actions. Their job is to remind you that you¡¯re hunting an antimemetic anomaly every fifteen seconds unless Command Two informs them that your mission is complete, you re-enter R-0, or you lose vitals.¡± ¡°That¡¯s insane,¡± Strauss whispers. Alice raises an eyebrow and gives him a look that screams, ¡®don¡¯t talk in class.¡¯ I roll my eyes at her, this time on purpose. ¡°The more variables, the worse outcomes. This mission¡¯s too complicated already.¡± Director Ramirez stares at Strauss. ¡°Do you have better suggestions?¡± Strauss goes quiet. ¡°Remember, our mission isn¡¯t to take the skyscraper or fight this antimemetic. It¡¯s to capture a Voiceless Singer. These are preliminary steps on that mission,¡± Ramirez says. He steps back from the podium. ¡°You have an hour and fifteen minutes. Be ready to go.¡±
I¡¯m already ready. Alice is, too. Neither of us has anything special we need to bring, and no matter what, the mission will only last a few hours. That¡¯s as long as we can be on the ARC side of the merge portal. So, while SHOCKS troopers run around gathering their stuff, we¡¯re in the SHOCKS shooting range. ¡°I see your problem, Alice. It¡¯s in the trigger. The way you pull it is wrong. Use the pad of your finger, not the crease in your joint. Like this.¡± I¡¯m showing her how to shoot because even though she¡¯s been out there and shot at monsters, she¡¯s godawful at it. What she really needs is to keep shooting and shooting¡ªwith a professional coaching her. What she¡¯s going to do is correct this issue and then jump into another reality. ¡°Shit,¡± she says as she misses for the fiftieth time. ¡°Alright. Stop for now. We¡¯ll keep working on it.¡± I take my gigantic earmuffs off, and so does she. The room¡¯s quiet except for the ringing in my ears. This time, I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s from the guns. ¡°Thanks,¡± Alice says. She doesn¡¯t snap at me for trying to show her what to do or get embarrassed that she¡¯s not perfect at shooting already. In fact, I get the feeling that she¡¯s not thanking me for helping her with her form at all¡ªat least, not really. I do the math. Then I feel my ears getting red. Shit. ¡°Is Mergewalking like going to your Mindscape?¡± she asks. Shit. ¡°No. It¡¯s a lot different. You¡¯ll probably puke, and it won¡¯t be as simple as waiting at the gate for me to let you in. We¡¯ll land in another reality, and if we¡¯re lucky, Ramirez will have us on target. But that¡­doesn¡¯t always happen.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Alice¡¯s single word hangs in the air as she holsters her gun. For a second, she reaches out to take my hand. Then she thinks better of it. A moment passes, the mask goes back up, and Soldier Alice is back in the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve got ten minutes. Just enough time to get there and make sure our gear¡¯s together.¡± She leaves, and I follow her. But as she goes, her hand reaches back for a second as if to grab mine. It¡¯s weird being the big sister, but sometimes, you¡¯ve got to do what you¡¯ve got to do. Chapter Sixty-Four Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez hit the far side of the merge portal on her hands and knees; she¡¯d learned from last time, and her unbuckled helmet and facemask fell away. All around her, RST troopers dry heaved¡ªor vomited up their breakfasts if they hadn¡¯t read the briefing file before eating. She checked her hip for the thermos that was vital for her primary mission, then found the submachine gun hanging from her harness, still safed but loaded and ready to go. All her ammo was here, and so was the rest of¡ª ¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area,¡± Command Two-A¡¯s voice interrupted her thoughts. ¡°Jesus Fucking Christ,¡± L5-2 said, coughing. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s pretty bad, trooper. It¡¯ll clear in a minute. Sound off and secure the room,¡± Olivia said. ¡°L4-5 reporting in.¡± ¡°L5-3, here.¡± ¡°L5-5, elevator door¡¯s secure.¡± As both teams checked in, Olivia unclipped the thermos and walked toward L4-3 and L5-6. The Pendleton sisters looked almost nothing alike, but at the same time, they were definitely siblings. It was the eyes¡ªthe intensity in them. Right now, Claire was helping Alice to her feet. The older girl wore RST combat fatigues and a battle harness that fit her, unlike her sister¡¯s oversized hoodie, but she hadn¡¯t drawn her pistol on landing, and she didn¡¯t carry any other weapons. Meanwhile, Claire¡¯s Revolver was already in her hand and ready, just like she¡¯d been trained for breaching buildings. ¡°Room clear,¡± L5-1 said. Olivia nodded and pointed to the computer. ¡°You ready, Alice?¡± ¡°Yes. I¡¯m ready.¡± The girl reached down and grabbed her sister¡¯s hand, squeezed it hard enough to white-knuckle, and let go. She swallowed as she took the thermos. L5-1 cleared his throat. ¡°Remember, your only mission is to get L5-4 access to the information inside. If Li Mei starts being a problem, disengage until you regain control.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± Alice unscrewed the thermos lid and looked at the sludge inside. She wrinkled her nose, then quickly upended the contents into her mouth.
I watch Alice, waiting for any sign that something¡¯s going wrong, but my stupid, perfect sister lowers the thermos and¡­burps. ¡°It¡¯s bubbly. Next time, make it less bubbly.¡± My shoulders slump. I relax, pocketing the Revolver. All around me, troopers secure the place; one breaks out the window and starts setting up a platform the size of a folding cot. It¡¯s Daley, and he¡¯s got a massive rifle. The barrel¡¯s big enough to fit the whole Revolver¡¯s barrel inside, sights and all. He takes aim, but I¡¯m not sure at what. ¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area.¡± Right. That. That¡¯s our main mission. Alice and Lambda-Five are here, doing computer stuff. We¡¯re¡­hunting an impossible-to-remember monster. ¡°Let¡¯s let Alice do her thing, then move out,¡± Rodriguez says. I nod gratefully. Alice is rocking back and forth in front of the computer. ¡°James, what¡¯s going on with her?¡± [Her Infohazard Resistance is being problematic,] James replies. I raise an eyebrow. [The chemical needs to work on her brain. Until it does, she can¡¯t interface with the computer. I¡¯d have one of the Lamda-Five guys do it, but that resistance is also the only thing that¡¯ll keep her alive and sane through the compound she¡¯s ingested.] ¡°So it¡¯s like a drug?¡± [Correct. Specifically, it¡¯s a derivative of LSD. It¡¯ll affect her thought processes, but it has to break through first.] I make a note¡ªJames didn¡¯t tell me exactly what this entailed beforehand. I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s a violation of trust, but it feels on the edge. Coupled with what I already know about his relationship with the System¡ªwhich I don¡¯t trust at all¡ªand he¡¯s got a couple of toes over the cliff. Alice stands up and walks to the first intact machine. She places a hand on the screen and starts breathing heavily, like she¡¯s been playing soccer for half a game. I watch as something opens, and L5-4 jams a drive into it. ¡°Running Ostrich-class security protocols, then Tapeworm Three. This could take some time, sir. We¡¯ve got to translate everything, which means developing a lexicon first. How long can she hold this state?¡± [Your team will need to withdraw from Provisional Reality ARC long before she stops being able to interface with the computer,] James replies for everyone to hear. ¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area.¡± Lieutenant Rodriguez waves Strauss and me toward the elevator. ¡°Alright, time for us to get to work.¡± I don¡¯t want to leave. Something feels like it¡¯s on the edge of going wrong in the computer lab. But Lieutenant Rodriguez insists, and Alice has all of Lambda Five with her. She¡¯s not in any danger except the self-inflicted kind, and L5-4 isn¡¯t acting like something¡¯s messing up. She¡¯s got eyes on my sister, and so does half of Lambda-Five. And, like Command Two-A said, there¡¯s something out there that I need to deal with. I step into the elevator. The door closes. And everything goes to shit.
¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area.¡± ¡°Copy that, we are aware!¡± Strauss shouts. Command Two-A can¡¯t hear him, but he says it anyway. I mash the ¡®emergency stop button a fifth time as my ears ring. The whole elevator smells like sewage, flowers, and gunpowder. I¡¯m not sure if the ringing is from the not-thing that¡¯s in here with us or from the two submachine guns ripping holes in the metal walls. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s the gunshots. I¡¯ve got my Revolver out, but I¡¯ve already fired all six reality skippers, and I can¡¯t switch. In this tight space, either of the other two would hurt my teammates. So would Soundbreak, and I can¡¯t use Absolution on it. So I¡¯m waiting. The bastard was in here the whole time. I don¡¯t know where it was hiding. There¡¯s no space for it in here¡ªbut maybe that¡¯s the point. Maybe it didn¡¯t want to be seen, so it wasn¡¯t seen. I can see it now, though. Screw it. I use Soundbreak. The wall of counterpointed sound crashes into it, knocking it into the wall. It¡¯s done more damage than any of the bullets we¡¯ve fired so far. The echo pops my ears, and Rodriguez yells something I can¡¯t hear. The monster¡ª [Mindbender.] The Mindbender locks its vision onto me. Then it disappears. But only for a moment. ¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area.¡± Just before it hits me, I see it again. It feels like being slammed by a brick wall being pushed over by a train¡ªif the wall was made of meat. I dry-fire the Revolver into its body. It clicks. Something in my chest clicks, too, and a wave of pain rushes over me. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 12] I blink.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It¡¯s gone. What¡¯s gone? ¡°What¡­what hit me?¡± My chest hurts like I¡¯ve been run over by a bus, but it¡¯s already fading. The last vestiges of shock leave Strauss¡¯s eyes as he looks over the elevator. It¡¯s covered in bullet holes, and sparks erupt from its control panel. Rodriguez stares at her submachine gun, switches out magazines, and starts reloading her mostly-spent one from a pouch of free shells. Both of them seem distinctly uncomfortable as the elevator creaks to a stop. It stinks like an electrical fire. The door opens, and smoke pours out into the office space. Command Two-A¡¯s message comes in again as we start looking around the cubicles¡ªthough they¡¯re more like roundicles. Every worker gets a circle of space. I shake my head, clearing it. ¡°How long between messages?¡± ¡°Fifteen seconds. They¡¯re relentless,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°Okay. We¡¯re dealing with a monster that resets our awareness of it on a less than fifteen-second time scale, but we knew it was there, so¡­¡± I trail off. ¡°So?¡± Strauss asks. ¡°So what?¡± I ask. The message comes in again. ¡°Right. So, we only have a few seconds to react to it. We need to change plans.¡±
We keep moving¡ªbut this time, we¡¯re heading up. If that not-thing made of void vanished out of the firefight, we¡¯re going to need to¡­ The message comes in. ¡­we need to get back to Lambda-Five. They might be in danger. As we climb the too-gradual flights of stairs, Rodriguez calls in. ¡°Command, contact Command Two-A. Have them alter the message pattern. Once every ten seconds, all three of us on different timings.¡± ¡°Copy that, L4-1.¡± [I¡¯m working on possible workarounds for you, Claire,] James says. ¡°For what?¡± Command Two-A interrupts me. By the time it¡¯s done, James is launching into his explanation. [For the Mindbender.] ¡°Right. The Mindbender. Why am I not gaining resistance to this?¡± [I¡¯m also trying to figure that out. I¡¯m not prepared to Analyze an antimemetic entity¡ªespecially not one that¡¯s this similar to a Voiceless Singer. If I hit another vision like I just did, it¡¯ll be a total disaster.] He pauses while Command Two-A¡¯s message rolls in. It¡¯s starting to become a rhythm to the conversation. Start with some understanding, lose focus, be reminded of our enemy, intense focus. Cycle through. [Right now, my best protection is to support you indirectly, not to engage the antimeme myself,] he continues. We keep climbing the stairs. [I¡¯ll get your system figured out. Just keep hunting.] ¡°Got it.¡± Strauss stops at the door to the next floor. Hopefully, it¡¯s the one Alice and Lambda-Five are on. His submachine gun¡¯s ready, but he waves me forward, then puts his hand on the door. I count down from five. [Skill Learned: Urban Combat 5] The door opens, and I open fire. This time, I¡¯ve got the gravity rounds in. I unload them all into the not-thing. Rodriguez is right behind me, opening up with her submachine gun, but Strauss is slow to react. After a second or two, he also starts firing. The thing vanishes into the roundicles. This time, I see it go. It¡¯s hurt, and if I can just¡­ What was I doing? James speaks up. [I¡¯m figuring it out, Claire. Don¡¯t worry. Just keep up the pressure, and I¡¯ll keep figuring stuff out.] Right. That. I dive into the roundicles before Command Two-A¡¯s reminder can hit me. That alone is a huge victory, but what¡¯s even better is that I catch another glimpse of the Mindbender. It¡¯s fleeing. We¡¯ve hurt it¡ªbad. Now I want to kill it. I start counting. It takes eighteen seconds for me to lose focus again. During that time, I use Bullet Time, Slither to keep up, and fire my flame rounds and reality skippers dry. It tries to crush me but misses. The submachine guns open up again. Strauss and Rodriguez tear the roundicles apart with stray shots; the whole office looks like it got ran through a paper shredder. The second the reminder comes in, I count again. This time, it takes twenty-one seconds. I¡¯ve got a theory about why, and hopefully, James can fill in one of the variables so I can see if I¡¯m right. The next time, I don¡¯t lose focus. The Mindbender¡¯s not-void body lies in the middle of the room. It¡¯s dead. Then, out of nowhere, it¡¯s gone. ¡°Command, this is Rodriguez. We¡¯ve neutralized the antimemetic anomaly. There may be more than one, but the closest threat is down. [Skill Learned: Memetic Resistance 10] Skill Merging: Infohazard Resistance 10+ and Memetic Resistance 10+ into Mental Fortitude 1] [Stability: 8/10] I can feel the skills merge. It¡¯s both infohazard and memetic resistances, but together. At the same time, my Stability¡­stabilizes. I feel more focused, more mentally together, than I have in a while. It¡¯s not like before. I know too much to ever be like it was before. But it¡¯s close. James fills the silence, explaining how the antimeme eliminated the skill increases. They were happening, but we didn¡¯t see any of them. I doubt Mental Fortitude is strong enough to ignore the antimeme completely, but based on the count, I¡¯ll have¡ª ¡°RST Lambda-Four, be advised that there is an antimemetic entity in your area.¡± Right. It might be dead, but we need to make sure the skyscraper¡¯s secure. Rodriguez is already giving orders; Strauss heads back up to get to work on the beachhead¡¯s Universal Reality Anchor, while Daley stays at his sniper rifle. He¡¯s been tracking something on and off, but keeping quiet so we could focus. That means there¡¯s more than one. The next twenty minutes are sweeping the building. My Mental Fortitude jumps another level, to two, and so does my Revolver Mastery, to nineteen. I have almost forty seconds before the antimeme defeats my defenses now, which means that it has basically no window to disappear. Without its¡­mind-bending¡­the Mindbender isn¡¯t any tougher than a thinling was. It takes a few more shots, but it¡¯s nowhere near as vomit-inducing as the constantly shifting anomalies. When the Universal Reality Anchor on Strauss¡¯s rover activates and the wave of shimmering Jell-O passes over me, I finally relax. The beachhead¡¯s a little more stable now. James confirms it a moment later. [That should lock both RSTs in for the next five to seven hours.] There¡¯s another Mindbender¡ªthe fourth¡ªin the lobby. Once it¡¯s dead, my mind feels like it¡¯s cleared. Rodriguez¡¯s shoulders slump, and the tension bleeds from her face as she collapses into an armchair. ¡°Strauss, we¡¯re clear in the lobby. Do you have anything autonomous for security down here?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got just the thing. Give me five.¡±
What Strauss has are land mines. They¡¯re boxy, with what looks like a sensor on one side and a laser pointer on the other. Every single one of them is labeled ¡®point front toward enemy,¡¯ and they¡¯ve got arrows making it obvious which side they mean. He keeps calling them claymores. One of my favorite melee characters in Knights of the Apocalypse uses a claymore, but that¡¯s a giant-ass sword that¡¯s taller than she is. These look way more explosive¡ªand way less badass. I could have bonded with an anomalous sword instead of the Revolver. That would have been cool; I could have used Carnation¡¯s moveset. Instead, I got a gun. The gun is better, on balance. But why couldn¡¯t I have gotten both? The land mines sit there menacingly. I stare at the entrance; anything that wants to come in that way is in for a world of hurt. Strauss shakes his head at it, though. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure if these damn things will activate for whatever we¡¯ve been killing. It¡¯ll handle just about anything else, though. They¡¯re regular old military-surplus claymores, not anything special¡ªbut they shred like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± [Claire,] James interrupts, [you need to come upstairs. Now.] I turn and start heading for the elevator, then smell the electric smoke and go for the too-wide, too-short stairs. It¡¯s probably a fifteen-minute climb, and James is giving me status updates the whole time. [She started freaking out. It might match up with the data we¡¯re pulling, but I can¡¯t be sure. I¡¯m not Analyzing any of it.] [She¡¯s stabilizing. We¡¯ve paused the data transfer. L4-4 is reporting movement in the street below. He¡¯s holding fire and tracking.] [Alright, your sister¡¯s good to go. She¡¯s fine, Claire, and you can continue your mission.] That¡¯s a lie. Not that Alice is fine. Not that she¡¯s good to go. Those ring true¡ªJames would tell me if he thought she was in real danger. But I can¡¯t continue my mission. Alice has no reason to be here anymore. James says we¡¯ve got a stable connection with the computer, and L5-4 is pulling data into a storage system. The only thing that¡¯s here for Alice is a Mindbender. Or a Voiceless Singer. I need to get her back home¡ªback to R-0. The others can continue their work without her. Soldier Alice might be ready to stick out the mission, but the real Alice is my little big sister, and sisters have to look out for each other. When I enter the computer lab, Alice is on the ground. L5-2 and L5-5 have a needle in her arm, and the whole room smells like stress sweat¡ªthe kind that stinks. They¡¯ve got a strap around her arms and chest, and her arms strain against it as her eyes roll. I¡¯d kill James if I could. Alice doesn¡¯t look fine at all. [She¡¯s stabilized. Right now, she¡¯s experiencing extreme hallucinations as a result of the compound she ingested. I told you this would happen.] He didn¡¯t. [It should fade in the next half-hour.] ¡°I¡¯m pulling her out of here,¡± I say. ¡°Negative,¡± Command says. ¡°L5-6 represents a unique set of skills, and without her presence, we may be locked out of additional information.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care.¡± The Revolver¡¯s out. It¡¯s pointing at everyone. At no one. ¡°I agreed to help you to keep my people safe. This isn¡¯t safe for Alice. We¡¯re leaving.¡± ¡°L4-3, in order to keep the rest of your people safe, we need the information your sister is helping recover,¡± Command says. ¡°Then I¡¯m done.¡± My words hang in the air. I don¡¯t think I can win a fight against two Recovery and Stabilization Teams. But I know I¡¯m too valuable to SHOCKS to lose¡ªespecially right now. They lose me here, they lose both teams. That¡¯s all their organized combat forces in Victoria. You can feel these moments sometimes¡ªwhen everything shifts. One second, seven troopers have their weapons not quite aimed at me, and my finger¡¯s on the Revolver¡¯s barrel. I¡¯ve got my first three targets picked out: Rodriguez, L5-1, and L5-4. Strauss is fourth if I can manage it. He knows too much about my powers. That takes out their biggest threats and keeps my shots away from Alice. I¡¯m going to Bullet Time the first three, then Smoke Form and Slither to reposition. Then I¡¯ll play it by ear. But before anyone makes a move, Commands says, ¡°Fine. We¡¯ve got a window in fifteen minutes. You can take her here, then return to Provisional Reality ARC and continue with your primary objective. We need a Voiceless Singer, and now that we¡¯re secure, we can start hunting for them while we decipher all that data.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I can live with that. The Revolver goes back in my hoodie pocket. Everyone¡¯s guns lower, and people go back to what they¡¯re doing¡ªmostly. But the whole time the fifteen-minute timer ticks down, I can¡¯t help but notice that at least two troopers have their eyes on me. The room¡¯s a tinderbox, and I¡¯ve got flame rounds. Chapter Sixty-Five Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - Twenty minutes later, I¡¯m back in Provisional Reality ARC, without Alice this time. She¡¯s on her way back to her room in SHOCKS Headquarters to sleep it off, and I¡¯m back with the Recovery and Stabilization Teams. The same ones that were ready to shoot at me just a few minutes ago. I step out of the portal and into the computer room. L5-4 has connections with every machine now, and she¡¯s pulling data as fast as she can. Everyone else is just sitting around and doing nothing. It¡¯s weird how things can go from ¡®everything has to happen now¡¯ to ¡®sit around and do nothing¡¯ in just a few moments, but that seems to be how SHOCKS wants to operate. When I¡¯m done getting my bearings, Rodriguez and Strauss lead me to the window. They lose focus halfway there, then the reminder hits Strauss, and he points down. ¡°We¡¯ve got hostiles. Lots of them.¡± I look. There have to be a dozen Mindbenders, and more are on the way. They¡¯re not making a move¡ªyet. They¡¯re just hunkered down on the pavement, their not-bodies almost completely submerged. I shut my eyes. ¡°James, do you have a solution?¡± [Yes, but you won¡¯t like it.] ¡°I never do when you say that. Let me guess. You want me to fight them?¡± [No. Against that many, you¡¯d be in trouble, and while Strauss¡¯s mines should help, they won¡¯t thin the anomalies out enough. When they¡¯re ready, they¡¯ll come right in here. I want you to take the data from L5-4, put it in your hoodie, and keep it safe. Then we¡¯re leaving. Command agrees with my plan, for what that¡¯s worth.] I eye the merge portal. I just got back here. It¡¯s way too early to fall back now. [That¡¯s the part you won¡¯t like,] James continues. [Lambda-Four¡¯s going out the window.] He explains the plan, and I roll my eyes. It just gets worse and worse. But I agree with it. It¡¯s possible, and if it works, it¡¯ll buy the other team plenty of time to finish their work here. It¡¯ll also move us around the city, and we might find some other clues about the Voiceless Singers. There¡¯s no way we hit exactly the information SHOCKS wanted on our first building. And it moves me away from Lambda-Five. I can almost trust Lambda-Four, but there¡¯s no way I trust L5-1 not to do something stupid. So even though it¡¯s going to get us all killed, I agree with James¡¯s plan. Daley counts us down. His monster rifle¡¯s aimed across the street and about ten stories down, toward another glass-and-steel skyscraper that¡¯s covered in black void vines. He¡¯s got it easy; his weapon¡¯s got a scope that probably auto-aims for him. I¡¯ve got to make the exact same shot a second after him, with my Revolver. With my finger in the barrel. ¡°Three, Two, One,¡± Daley says. The rifle roars. Across the wide street, glass shatters. The second it¡¯s clear, I fire a single reality skipper. If this doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯m supposed to Slither and Smoke Form to safety. I doubt that¡¯ll work. The micromerge opens, and I Mergewalk across the street. It feels like being sucked through a straw full of Jell-O, but I arrive. I missed. That¡¯s the first thing that goes through my head. The second thing is that the window frame¡¯s right there. My hand wraps around it, driving glass into my palm and fingers and my weight slams down. But I hold, and a moment later, I¡¯ve Slithered through the window, just like we planned. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I say over comms. ¡°Copy that. Daley, take the shot,¡± Rodriguez says. A flash goes off from the computer room window as I throw myself to the ground. It¡¯s supposed to be a cable launcher. But just in case it¡¯s not, I press myself onto the carpet. When the cable and grapple hits my back, it¡¯s almost like a physical weight coming off me. I know I can trust Lambda-Four¡ªor at least Strauss¡ªbut proof is good. Trust, but verify, or something. I secure the cable around a concrete pillar and then send a picture on their face plates. ¡°You¡¯re good to come across.¡± ¡°Daley is staying to provide overwatch,¡± Rodriguez says. ¡°See you in a minute.¡± It takes them almost five to both get across. The whole time, I keep my eyes rotating between their dangling, harnessed bodies and the growing crowd of Mindbenders below. Something about them bothers me, now that I can actually focus on them. They¡¯re so similar to the Voiceless Singers. That seems important. ¡°James, why would something go void? And are antimemetic traits normal with void entities?¡± I ask. We¡¯ve got time. [We don¡¯t have a very good record of void entities. Until the Voiceless Singers, we¡¯d only encountered a few, and some of those have R-0 explanations. Experiments with anomalous tech gone wrong, stuff like that. But no, antimemetic traits aren¡¯t typical of anything. Not that we can tell, anyway,] he says, the hint of a joke in his voice. [Antimemes are hard to study by their very nature, and that goes for the Halcyon System as much as it does SHOCKS.] ¡°But there¡¯s a connection here. What is it?¡± The equation¡¯s pointing me toward something. I don¡¯t know what, yet, but something. ¡°James, I need to know what¡¯s on those computers¡ªespecially if there¡¯s a map of the city or planet. I¡¯m looking for¡­something.¡± [We won¡¯t be able to see what¡¯s on them for several hours; by then, we¡¯ll be back in R-0.] ¡°I know.¡± But that doesn¡¯t matter. What I want and what I can actually get are often two different things.
The cable stays in place. If Strauss and Rodriguez have to use it in a hurry, things are going to get messy, but it gives them an out. They¡¯ll need it anyway, but the fast escape is important. That¡¯s important, because this next part¡¯s going to suck. ¡°L4-4, are you ready?¡± Rodriguez asks. ¡°Affirmative. Lambda-Five is in position to defend if things go wrong,¡± Daley says. ¡°They usually do, so it¡¯s better to be prepared.¡± ¡°Cut all nonessential communication,¡± Command says. The tension drips from Director Ramirez¡¯s voice. Rodriguez tightens her grip on the entry-level door. She jerks it open. ¡°Go!¡± I rush out, Revolver blazing. Lances of fire spike out toward a half-dozen Mindbenders. Strauss and Rodriguez pull the door shut behind me as I switch shells and keep shooting. Four miniature black holes appear between me and the Mindbenders. They¡¯ve noticed me, but the singularities block their path. I keep shooting until the third cylinder¡¯s dry, too, then Slither down the street. The plan¡¯s simple. I¡¯m supposed to lead them around the block, then back into the building I just left from. That¡¯ll buy Strauss and Rodriguez time to activate the ten-minute timer on the explosives Strauss lined the building¡¯s bottom floor with and get back across to the computer room. We¡¯re doing some uncontrolled demolition in the middle of the Voiceless Singers¡¯ city, in a strange reality with unknown consequences. There¡¯s no way this won¡¯t end badly. For someone. My money¡¯s on getting a Voiceless Singer¡¯s attention halfway through, but I haven¡¯t said that to anyone, just in case I jinx it. I lose focus. The reminder comes in, and a second later, I lose focus again. There are so many Mindbenders on the street that I¡¯m constantly losing my train of thought, even with my Mental Fortitude. I need space. I need to get around the corner. Why do I need to get around the corner?If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. [Adjusting warning speed upward,] James says. The warning comes in, and I refocus long enough to fire a full cylinder into the nearest Mindbender and take off down the dark road. It¡¯s covered in void vines, and I trip, stumble, and keep running. One thing about the Mindbenders is that they¡¯re slow except in bursts. I should have noticed this, but they¡¯re antimemes, so it¡¯s not a surprise. I round the corner and start counting. I make it almost twelve seconds before the first monster comes around the corner and gets a gravity shell for its trouble. More come around the corner. Bullet Time. Three shots, one on each of the first three enemies. Then I keep moving, slowing down to a jog. ¡°Explosives armed,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Got it,¡± I reply. They¡¯re slow, but there are so many of them. I keep moving, get around the corner, and almost run into one. It slams into me, drives me to the asphalt, and disappears as I lose focus. My hoodie¡¯s torn and shredded, but the disks are in my pocket, and they¡¯re intact. So are my cylinders. The reminder comes in, and that Mindbender gets three fire lances, too. And that¡¯s when things go wrong.
I expected it to be a void angel. A Voiceless Singer. It¡¯s not. But that doesn¡¯t make it better. I lose focus. Refocus. Lose it again. It¡¯s a constant battle in my head. There are so many Mindbenders. Too many. I can¡¯t stick to the plan. I need cover. ¡°Command, Lambda Four, this is L4-3. I¡¯m not making it back to that skyscraper,¡± I say as I stagger. My brain doesn¡¯t want to work. Individually, I can handle these things. There are fifty. Maybe more; they¡¯re impossible to count. ¡°Copy. JAMES Unit, please create an alternate path for L4-3 to regroup with Lambda-Four and Five,¡± Command says. [Negative. At ground level, the risk of fatal injury from either the explosion or collapsing debris is too high. I¡¯m working with L4-3 to brainstorm solutions that involve stalling at the edge of the blast zone, but the antimemes¡¯ intended destruction is unlikely at this point.] Unlikely. That means it¡¯s not going to happen. And James isn¡¯t working with me. He¡¯s not even talking to me. That¡¯s fine. Better than fine. It means I can concentrate¡ªa little bit. So, the first thing is to get clear. I fire another cylinder until the hammer clicks. Who knows if I¡¯ve killed anything? Not me, that¡¯s for sure; I¡¯m barely even aiming. Aiming requires concentration, and my train of thought¡¯s completely off the rails. I stagger down the street ahead of the Mindbenders. They follow like I¡¯m the Pied Piper or something. It¡¯d be comedic if I wasn¡¯t in the middle of it. ¡°Explosion incoming,¡± Strauss says. ¡°Ten seconds.¡± Ten seconds? It was just ten minutes! I throw myself toward the crystal glass into the nearest building. The shockwave blows out the window before I can hit it, and a hurricane of glass shards surrounds me. I Smoke Form, hit the ground softly, and then run into the building. The Mindbenders follow me, but I¡¯m not worried about holding them in one place anymore. I just want to escape. Behind me, steel screams, lightning sparks from broken power lines, and all hell breaks loose as the towering skyscraper collapses in on itself in a textbook implosion. And the Mindbenders keep coming. I think. I can¡¯t be sure, because I only have seconds where I know they exist. [That explosion would have killed you if you¡¯d gone in, Claire.] James¡¯s voice drips with worry. [I¡¯m checking SHOCKS for any signs of betrayal.] ¡°They won¡¯t. Not like this,¡± I say between breaths. It¡¯s true. SHOCKS didn¡¯t set those fast on purpose. They¡¯re mentally unfocused, too. I¡¯ve been losing too much time to the Mindbenders. Without the reminders, I wouldn¡¯t have made it to safety at all. I hustle up a floor, then another, until the skyscraper across the way has mostly collapsed and the dust starts to settle. I can feel the Mindbenders in my brain. They¡¯re closing in; in spite of my Mental Fortitude¡ªin spite of the constant reminders¡ªI just can¡¯t concentrate on why I¡¯m running. Why am I running? Right. The Mindbenders. I have an idea. It¡¯s a stupid idea because the risk is even higher than last time. I need to get back to the RSTs, but I can¡¯t lead the dozens of monsters filling the street and the floors below me back to them. What I can do is disappear. I¡¯ve got tools for that. Gunfire echoes across the street. It¡¯s almost silent compared to the skyscraper¡¯s long, drawn-out destruction. ¡°L4-3, Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five have made contact with the anomalies and are attempting to neutralize them,¡± Command says. ¡°Got it. I¡¯m on my way back.¡± I keep climbing the stairs, shooting as the not-void monsters gain on me. I slide into an elevator and press the button. The door closes, but something slams into me before it can seal. I¡¯m shooting everything I have; the heat in the little cube skyrockets as the Mindbender slams me around and gets pulled into walls. It disappears, only to reappear and disappear again. It doesn¡¯t matter. I keep shooting even as something cracks in my hip and I hit the ground. I Slither and Smoke Form, falling out of the bottom of the elevator and forcing myself through a door. I solidify before I bounce off the floor; the tile feels like hitting a brick wall. There might be a dent like in the cartoons. I don¡¯t care; I keep running, heading toward the building I came from. ¡°Negative. The RSTs need evacuation, not assistance,¡± Command says. ¡°Proceed to the third floor of the nearest building and use a fire lance shot to mark your location. L4-4 is on the lookout for you. Expect another grapple.¡± ¡°God dammit,¡± I gasp. Then, I head for the nearest building and jog up the stairs toward the third floor. My mind¡¯s clearing, so I¡¯ve shaken the monsters¡ªfor now.
The gunfire only intensifies as I shoot out the window, run the Revolver across it to break the glass, and fire a flame lance into the sky like a flare. I¡¯m in what looks like a cafe, except it¡¯s covered in dust, and I don¡¯t recognize any of the drinks in the vending machines. One second passes. Two. The grapple passes over my shoulder; its blade slices into my earlobe, and I slap a hand on my face like I¡¯ve been stung. The line starts sliding for the door; I grab it and secure it. ¡°Command, the line¡¯s tied.¡± ¡°Copy that. Lambda-Four, Lambda-Five, prepare for quick-line descents,¡± Command says. ¡°I fucking hate these,¡± someone says. I don¡¯t catch who. I watch a half-dozen black dots leap out of the window high above and coast toward me, cable screaming as their harness¡¯s pulleys bounce and rub on the steel. They hit in a variety of rolls, getting clear in the second or two before the next trooper slides through the window. Strauss is first, and by the time he¡¯s recovered, he¡¯s already got a remote control in his hand. ¡°Firing in ten.¡± I wait and brace myself for a building-leveling explosion as troopers recover around me. Instead, I get a muffled ¡®whump¡¯ as the computer room near the top of the tower erupts out the shattered window, and the cable¡¯s tension releases. It whips toward us but bounces off the building. L5-1 nods. ¡°Thanks. We¡¯re down two; L5-2 and L5-5 didn¡¯t make it.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got our whole team,¡± Rodriguez says. She nods at me, and I nod back. Then she continues. ¡°Command, JAMES Unit, we need either immediate evac from Provisional Reality ARC or a mission objective far away from here. This area isn¡¯t secure, and the beachhead is compromised.¡± ¡°Understood. Head due north along the main road. Evacuation will be that way in an hour. Until then, your main objective is to find additional information on this reality and to protect the information you already have. Command, out.¡± L5-4 hands me some more drives. I take them. ¡°So, we¡¯re here until we find something, right? That¡¯s what Command really said.¡± ¡°Negative,¡± Rodriguez says. Her jaw¡¯s set. ¡°We¡¯re here until Command pulls us out. Hopefully, that happens soon. JAMES Unit, please give us our current time until personal reality level collapse occurs.¡± [Thirty-two minutes exposed, almost fifty-eight minutes in cover. Your personal reality anchors are beginning to fail,] James says. Rodriguez¡¯s face goes white. So does mine. It sounds like the RSTs are screwed. The timer¡¯s ticking.
Alice lay in her bed, safely tucked away in SHOCKS Headquarters. She was asleep, but she wasn¡¯t resting. Her mind was still too addled from the access compound for her to rest. The walls were down. All of them. She was eight years old, and a shadowy figure pursued her. She¡¯d always¡ªalways¡ªbeen who she needed to be. She¡¯d taken the access compound without complaint, even though it burned like ghost peppers as it went down, because someone needed her to be something. Her whole life, she¡¯d been what others needed her to be. When Dad needed someone to keep the family afloat and figure out the bills, she¡¯d put herself away in a box and ran the apartment as best she could¡ªeven at nine years old. When Claire needed someone to tuck her in, the housekeeper disappeared, and the mom neither of them had stepped up. Soccer star? Candice wanted her to try out in 6th grade; before that, she hadn¡¯t cared much about it. Valedictorian? Her fourth-grade teacher said she could do amazing things with her mind and told her to apply herself. On and on and on, a million boxes for a million slightly different Alices. The shadow was just like any of those roles she¡¯d been asked to perform, except she¡¯d never asked for Li Mei. It went in its box, just like the one she¡¯d put herself into when she was eight. She¡¯d had taken a long time to build the box, and putting Li Mei in it had been more effort than she wanted to spend. She¡¯d rather Li Mei just go away. Die, disappear, or let SHOCKS take over the imprisonment instead of her. She didn¡¯t care as long as Li Mei wasn¡¯t in her life¡ªor her head. The box had been a compromise. So had her reliance on Li Mei¡¯s infovampiric powers. She was bonded, yes. But she hated it, and Li Mei stayed in her box unless she was needed. And the box. Stayed. Locked. Now the box was open, and Alice¡ªthe real Alice she hadn¡¯t been able to be in a decade until her stupid sister broke her free last night¡ªwas running. Li Mei had already killed off a half-dozen Alices. If she could escape, she could rebuild them. But there wasn¡¯t anywhere to go. Everywhere she could hide in her own mind, Li Mei could go. She was trapped and running out of space to stall in. The shadowy figure closed in. Nowhere in her mind was safe. But one place might be. It¡¯d mean abandoning her body to Li Mei, and that would have consequences. But it was better than losing herself. As long as she had herself, she could rebuild her walls. She could find her way home. Alice took a deep breath. She jumped. Her body lay in her bed. It was asleep, but it wasn¡¯t resting. She traveled the not-gray void toward her port in the storm, clad in a yellow raincoat and sticker-covered pink rain boots. Chapter Sixty-Six Math was always my favorite subject. It didn¡¯t lie. It didn¡¯t play favorites. If you understood how to divide, you could divide anything¡ªexcept zero. If you knew the quadratic formula, you could graph parabolas. If you¡ª You get the idea. Normally, I can solve problems really fast, and I can usually get them right. Mrs. Helquist thought I was a prodigy. She wanted to move me into some higher-level math classes, but I either needed the prerequisites or some private tutoring, and Dad couldn¡¯t have afforded that even if he¡¯d wanted to. But I hated timed tests. The only time I¡¯ve ever hated math had nothing to do with the numbers on the page and everything to do with the numbers on the clock. Slap a page with ¡°Math Minute¡± written across the top in front of me, and I freeze right up. Good thing reality¡¯s not a timed test.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - So, the equation. If X is the amount of time the RSTs¡¯ personal reality anchors can run, and Y is the amount of time they can maintain normal reality levels without them, then Z is the amount of time they have before they need to be back in R-0. Simple enough. Thirty-one minutes out of cover or fifty-two minutes in it, plus about five minutes for the ultra-high reality levels here to collapse them. Against that, a fifty-eight-minute timer before SHOCKS can open the merge portal at whatever location we hole up in. We¡¯re a minute short, no matter how we run the numbers. That¡¯s the math. It doesn¡¯t lie, and it doesn¡¯t play favorites. Rodriguez knows it, and so does L5-1. Both of them also know that there¡¯s a variable we can change. If there are six RST troopers and six anchors, everyone¡¯s screwed. If there are only five troopers, but still six anchors, though? Yeah. If there are only five, they can rotate the last anchor. It won¡¯t be pleasant, but they¡¯ll all live. Not the one they take the anchor from, though. Sometimes, math¡¯s cruel, even though it doesn¡¯t lie and doesn¡¯t play favorites. Sometimes, there¡¯s not another way to solve for X. We¡¯re all walking while the RST troopers talk on their communicators. I¡¯ve asked James to patch me out of their conversation unless they need me, but they know the same math I do. James will bring me back in when they figure out who the sacrifice is. ¡°What about if you toggled your devices on and off?¡± I ask out loud. I haven¡¯t given up on this yet. We can all get out of here. I just need to figure out how. Strauss looks at me. His eyes are haunted and empty. ¡°Won¡¯t work. It takes more power to start a URA than it does to keep it running. We¡¯d only be speeding up the inevitable.¡± ¡°James, ideas?¡± [I¡¯m running through what we know about this reality. In the meantime, staying with the RSTs isn¡¯t going to help them,] James says. His voice shifts to the computerlike tone he uses when he¡¯s talking publicly. [Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five, L4-3 is going to look for a solution. My calculations suggest that you can wait up to forty-eight minutes before you pass the point at which one additional anchor won¡¯t be enough. Take cover nearby. L4-3 will be back in thirty minutes.] Rodriguez nods. She looks sick, and everyone¡¯s got their guns ready. She points at a nearby building; it¡¯s not as tall as the others, but it doesn¡¯t have windows on the first floor. ¡°We¡¯ll be there. It¡¯s defensible. Command, we¡¯re looking for solutions to our timing problem.¡± ¡°Copy that. We are, too. That reality has windows where we can set up a merge portal and windows where we can¡¯t. Otherwise, we¡¯d evac you now. If we think of something on our end, we¡¯ll let you know.¡± I turn and leave. This reminds me of that space mission. The one named for the Greek god Apollo. They had malfunctions on their spacecraft and had to get coached through the repairs via radio¡ªand to use scrapped-together solutions just to survive. Except technically, we¡¯re not in a spaceship, and we have fewer tools than they did. And less time. Reality¡¯s a timed math test sometimes, and the math¡¯s not favorable. I duck into a side street¡ªas much to break line of sight with the teams as anything else. The black void vines cover everything natural and most of the buildings¡¯ surfaces, and the same potpourri and sewage smell leaks up from below. [Claire, the RSTs don¡¯t have a better solution. I¡¯ve got every spare processing loop focused on them. They¡¯re out of options. So are we.] ¡°What does that mean?¡± [It means we should spend the next forty-six minutes and sixteen seconds working on our primary objective: tracking down a Voiceless Singer or figuring out what happened to this reality. The RSTs are grown adults who signed up for stuff like this. They knew the risks and knew that some of them might not be coming home from a trip to another reality. You can¡¯t save them. I know¡ªI¡¯ve done all the math you¡¯re working through already.] ¡°I don¡¯t want to abandon them,¡± I say. They might¡¯ve been ready to get into a shoot-out with me less than an hour ago, and I don¡¯t trust them, but there¡¯s a good chance one of my¡­friends? I guess they¡¯re friends. There¡¯s a good chance one of my friends doesn¡¯t get out of here. [I know, but the math¡¯s against them.] He¡¯s appealing to the math. Worse, he¡¯s telling the truth. But the truth is that even though he¡¯s not lying, I have to try. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get looking. Set a forty-minute timer in my aug. That¡¯ll give us time to get back.¡± [Got it. You¡¯re doing the right thing, and they know it.] The timer appears and starts ticking down. I mentally subtract ten minutes from it and keep track of the new number. That¡¯s how long I have to figure something out. I pull up my Skills and Inquiries. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 1/10 ?Skills - Endurance 7, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 12, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 19, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Mental Fortitude 2, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 2, Toxin Resistance 6, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk, Mindscape, Soundbreak, Determination, Absolution, Truthseeker ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling, Part of the Ship, ?Inquiries (4/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?What do the voiceless singers want? ?Why don¡¯t people come back from other realities? ?Where are the voiceless singers hiding? ?Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. One slot left. I don¡¯t want to lose any of these, but I¡¯ve got a pair of possible Inquiries. On the one hand, I need to know what happened to this world. It¡¯s important in the long term to understand what happened to the Voiceless Singers, where they¡¯ve gone, and what they want. And, of course, how they relate to the System I¡¯m using. On the other hand, there¡¯s the impending problem of the RSTs. They need an answer. This world¡¯s got to have something. I¡¯m not sure what yet, but¡­if I don¡¯t find a solution soon, one of them is dead. Maybe more than one; I could see that tinderbox lighting up and several people taking bullets. So, that¡¯s a pressing problem. And then there¡¯s a third option. I could do neither, and instead try to figure out what¡¯s on the data banks in my pocket. Director Ramirez wants them intact as much as he wants his teams back. They have to be important. I can work on all three, but I can¡¯t progress them all within the System unless I abandon a current Inquiry. In the end, though, there¡¯s only one choice. ?Inquiries (5/5) ?Why can¡¯t humans handle different reality levels? I¡¯m not looking for a solution. Not yet. I just need an answer to the basic question, and I need it in the next ten minutes. Something tickles my mind, and I forget what I¡¯m doing. Command Two reminds me, and before I can lose focus again, the Mindbender is dead. I¡¯m looking for a clue. I don¡¯t have a plan for how to find one, so I¡¯m just wandering and letting James observe. His Analysis is a better tool than anything I¡¯ve got. We leave the city center¡ªthe towers out here are narrower, more like the ones we have on Earth. There are no ¡®normal¡¯ houses. [I¡¯m almost done with the lexicon for this world, and I think I have a possible target five minutes out. It¡¯s a research facility, but I¡¯m not sure what they were researching yet. It¡¯s our best bet for a quick in-and-out operation, though.] James sounds suspicious, but if he¡¯s caught on that our goals don¡¯t line up, he¡¯s not saying anything.] ¡°Show me.¡± A map appears in my aug with a thin blue line leading toward the lab. I break into a run; something inside is the solution. It has to be, because the math only works that way.
L5-1 wouldn¡¯t stop safing and unsafing his SMG¡¯s clip, and it was starting to drive Olivia Rodriguez insane. It was the only sound in the basement they¡¯d taken shelter in. Even Strauss had nothing to say. Their battle lines were clear. Lambda-Four was holed up about fifteen yards from Lambda-Five in the hotel-looking building¡¯s hall. Lambda-Five had taken the concierge desk. If it came down to a firefight, Olivia knew how it¡¯d end; Lambda-Five¡¯s heavy machine gun wasn¡¯t set up, and by the time they could get it running, Lambda-Four would be all over them. The problem, to her, was pretty simple. Right now, SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island¡¯s Recovery and Stabilization Teams were screwed. The best-case scenario was that they got out of it with one ad-hoc team together. Either way, the new Lambda wouldn¡¯t operate as smoothly as either Four or Five did, and they¡¯d be under shaky leadership. Director Ramirez was already losing his mind over the casualties both teams had taken in their missions, and he wouldn¡¯t be any more stable after this. The issue was that no one wanted to be the sacrifice. Obviously. Everyone was holding out for L4-3¡ªthe only one of them not on a timer. Strauss had talked for a while. He¡¯d been confident that if anyone could find a solution, it was L4-3. Olivia wanted to believe him; that girl had pulled some shit off in the past, bailing them out of the ghost ship and getting Strauss to safety in the maze world. But time was running out. The point of no return was coming up, and Olivia had to make a decision. No one else would. She started unbuckling her personal reality anchor, ignoring Command¡¯s sudden, frantic protests. It hit the ground with a thump in the no man¡¯s land between Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five.
I¡¯m five floors down the stairs when I realize I recognize this place. It¡¯s a SHOCKS facility. Not exactly, I guess. The dimensions are still wrong; I can barely stand up straight, and the weird computers and not-square cubicles are everywhere. But it¡¯s a high-tech, underground prison/research facility made out of chunky, squared concrete. And it¡¯s overgrown with black void vines. They¡¯ve broken through the walls, the doors¡ªeverywhere. It¡¯s a maze in here. I manually adjust my timer down another two minutes to account for how impossible it¡¯ll be to get out of here, then start sliding through the choking vines. They remind me of the ghost ship¡ªin fact, they¡¯re almost identical to the pipes, except there¡¯s no oil running through them, and they¡¯re not angular and cold. They¡¯re a little warm¡ªnot enough to make me sweat, but enough to be noticeable. [Lexicon finished. Overlaying language,] James says. The words spring to life on my aug, overlaid on scribbles I can¡¯t even start to read, and I smile. I was right. ¡®Containment and Preservation, Incorporated.¡¯ That¡¯s the name of this place. A business variation on SHOCKS, not a shadowy government agency. Not the Bogeymen. The wings aren¡¯t labeled in a way I can understand¡ªI have no idea what ¡®Heretical¡¯ or ¡®Apocalyptic¡¯ means in this context, though I can guess¡ªbut they¡¯re something. I scan the maze of halls and vines, letting James populate my map with information. Then I push down the hall toward the ¡®Research Mezzanine.¡¯ If there¡¯s an answer here, it¡¯ll be there. Probably. The Research Mezzanine is a vast, open space with a single floor around it and another far below. It¡¯s also the first time since we entered Provisional Reality ARC that I haven¡¯t felt claustrophobic. There¡¯s only one vine in the center of the room, and it¡¯s both massive and surrounded by a broken glass tank. Water stains cover the floor around it. [That¡¯s what we want,] James says. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± [I¡¯ve been the centerpiece of an experiment long enough to recognize the subject of intense research. We need to get down there.] I¡¯m already drawing the Revolver. One micromerge jump later, I¡¯m downstairs, next to the gigantic plant. [Stability 7/10] The first thing I notice is that the room¡¯s oppressively dark. The corners seem to disappear, and even in the center, where a dozen lights burn brightly, it feels like midnight with a full moon. It¡¯s almost like the vine¡¯s sucking the bright from the rest of the space. I shiver. The second is that the vine itself is moving. It¡¯s not much, and it¡¯s definitely not conscious or mobile. But it is swaying back and forth. It¡¯s almost like¡­ ¡°James, what are the reality levels right here?¡± [Right here, right now?] James asks. I nod, and he pauses. The silence stretches on for far longer than it should. [Extremely low. Almost to the point of reality not existing.] I check the timer. Eighteen minutes. Thirty-four on the teams¡¯ life timers. Two or three minutes longer until we can pull out of here. That¡¯s enough time. I can save them. ¡°Command, Lambda-Four, Lambda-Five, this is L4-3,¡± I shout into the microphone. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± I relay the information. Command goes quiet. ¡°That might work. There¡¯s a problem, though.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°L4-1¡­¡± Command¡¯s voice cracks, and suddenly, it¡¯s Doctor Twitchy, not Director Ramirez. ¡°Olivia removed her personal reality anchor.¡± I go cold, and it¡¯s not from the darkness or the sense of unreality that¡¯s already pressing in on me. ¡°How long does she have?¡± ¡°Ten minutes at most, even if we get her strapped back in,¡± Strauss says. I shut my eyes. I was so close, but ten minutes? That¡¯s barely going to be enough time. It took me twelve to get here and figure things out. But I wasn¡¯t pushing myself¡ªnot like I can. Breathe in. Breathe out. Run the equation again. ¡°Command, I¡¯m moving toward the RSTs¡¯ last-known location. Strauss, get her back in that anchor and start moving toward us. I¡¯ll meet you halfway and take her. I¡¯m going to be moving fast. The rest of you are on your own. Get here quickly. L4-3 out.¡± I hang up. ¡°James, mute them all. Tell them exactly where we are, but I need to focus.¡± Being good enough won¡¯t be enough. Not right now. I¡¯ll have to be like Alice. I¡¯ll have to be perfect.
I crash through a wall with Slither and Smoke Form, and my Stability hits three. My Revolver¡¯s smoking from the shots I¡¯ve taken: one reality skipper to get back upstairs, a Smoke Form to slide through the elevator door using my momentum, and another micromerge jump to climb the whole elevator. Then one to travel most of the length of a street. I¡¯ve moved four blocks in less than three minutes. The problem is twofold. I can¡¯t hit zero Stability, because Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five don¡¯t have the time to fight an unknown anomaly. But I can¡¯t fail at getting Rodriguez back to the room with the vine. James has been checking, and none of the void plants covering the city have the concentrated unreality to counter the hyperreal world they¡¯re living in. They¡¯ve achieved symbiosis with Provisional Reality ARC, but the vine in the CPI headquarters drained every last bit of hyperreality from its surroundings. There¡¯s an event horizon, just like around the gravity shots, where things are balanced. Beyond it is unreality, and in front of it is hyperreality. I want that line. That¡¯s the best plan I¡¯ve got. Overload the RSTs with unreality, then dunk them into hyperreality and hope I can maintain their balance. It could work. Strauss rounds the corner, right where James said he¡¯d be. The rest of the RSTs are behind him. According to James, they were seconds away from opening fire on each other before Lieutenant Rodriguez defused things. I¡¯d never have guessed; they¡¯re moving as a unit, and even though I can see the fracture lines, they¡¯re faint¡ªmore like the kind people who haven¡¯t worked together have with each other than the kind people who were about to kill each other do. I don¡¯t care. I use another reality skipper to close the gap, grab Rodriguez, and run. It¡¯s funny that I¡¯m doing this again. I¡¯ve dragged her through a couple different tight, confined mazes now. She¡¯s going to owe me when this works¡ªand it¡¯s going to work. It has to. The math says it¡¯s possible. I run as fast as my Endurance will let me with her weight pressing down on me, and then I run even faster. [Skill Learned: Endurance 8] It takes longer than it needs to get back into the CPI building, and I have to take some pretty crazy risks to keep on schedule. The biggest one is the drop down the elevator shaft; since I¡¯ve got Rodriguez, I can¡¯t just use the Revolver¡ªat least, not the way I want to. Instead of taking a micromerge across with a reality skipper, I fire a gravity shot and make a singularity halfway down, then drop Rodriguez. She falls limply. She doesn¡¯t even scream. I¡¯m not sure she¡¯s even conscious, but the shell does catch her. I drop down behind her, knock her out of the miniature black hole she¡¯s orbiting before it can rip at her too much, and then Slither and Smoke Form out. [Stability 2/10] Then I¡¯m in the mezzanine, and the void root¡ªit has to be a root, there¡¯s no way a vine could be that thick¡ªis right there. I scoop Rodriguez up, sprint for the edge, and repeat the same trick with a second gravity shot. We slide into the dark, oppressive unreality in the Research Mezzanine¡¯s bottom floor. I drop her onto the floor and wait for the rest of the RSTs to catch up. But more importantly, I wait for her to live or die. I can¡¯t do anything else for her. Chapter Sixty-Seven A long time ago, in eighth grade last year, Sora and I got caught smoking under the bleachers. We didn¡¯t exactly get caught, really. We started a fire. The end result was the same, though. But we didn¡¯t stop. We just changed plans¡ªchanged the math. The Truth Club had to go on, even if we¡¯d gotten in trouble. So we met in a different place, made sure there wasn¡¯t anything nearby for the ashes to catch on, and kept smoking our ritual cigarette before our meetings. Sometimes, things don¡¯t work the way you hope or plan. But I¡¯m a tough cookie, and there¡¯s always a way to balance the equation. A variable can always change, whether it¡¯s where we smoke or the way we leave another reality.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - Not every plan works out. I have to keep telling myself that as time ticks by. Rodriguez doesn¡¯t look so good. The timer¡¯s at one minute, and it¡¯s getting hard to keep her balanced. Half of her looks like it wants to slough off and slide into the void root. The other half looks almost pixelated or staticky. It¡¯s hard to describe, but I feel like I¡¯m balancing her on a knife¡¯s edge, and she¡¯s going to tip any minute. The knife keeps getting sharper, and there¡¯s less and less room for error. The rest of Lambda-Four and Lambda-Five are here. They¡¯re experiencing the same shit as Rodriguez, but less of it; they¡¯ve been exposed for less time, and that¡¯s going to make the difference for them. None of them are happy about being ripped apart by hyperreality and the void, but they¡¯re managing. And they didn¡¯t have to kill each other, so that¡¯s good, because I¡¯m going to kill them all myself if Rodriguez dies. All they had to do was wait until the point of no return to do something dumb. Instead, according to James, they were ready to kill each other well before we reached that point. The thing is, this is working. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s going to die. She¡¯s definitely out of commission after this, though. The timer keeps ticking down. I push Rodriguez slightly toward the void root as she pixelates a little more. Other than that, the research mezzanine is silent. [Claire, we need to come back here,] James says. He overlays an image in my aug, and I stare at it. Then I nod slowly. [That¡¯s a high-security lab, two floors down, directly below the root. If we¡¯re going to figure out what happened to this reality, or what caused the Voiceless Singers, that¡¯s where we¡¯ll have to look.] ¡°Yeah.¡± I don¡¯t say anything else. Right now, I¡¯m focused on Rodriguez, not on my Inquiries. I keep adjusting her position until the merge generator opens up a shimmering portal near me. ¡°Lambda-Four, Lambda-Five, this is Command. Proceed through quickly. We have a one-minute window,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. I don¡¯t waste any time. Before the rest of the Recovery and Stabilization troopers can get themselves moving, I¡¯ve got Rodriguez in my arms. I stand there as the rest of the team hooks onto my harness, and then I drag them through the portal as soon as someone thumps my shoulder. Alarms go off in the Experimental Sector as we touch down on the steel ramp. Rodriguez looks even worse than she did in Provisional Reality ARC. Her body¡¯s twisted and broken all across her left side, like she¡¯s been wrung out to dry. Her arm and leg bend at impossible angles. She looks like she¡¯s been spaghettified by a black hole¡ªbut only partially. A medical team with a crash cart¡¯s there. They slap her onto it and push her out of the room, all wearing heavy-duty bio-suits. The rest of the room¡¯s empty except for a second team in bio-suits, all moving toward the RSTs. They ignore me. I¡¯ve been diving into enough realities for them to confirm that we don¡¯t bring back contaminants, but something about that lab must have thrown SHOCKS off, and they want to be sure. I could leave right now. I want to leave right now, to see Alice and make sure she¡¯s okay after whatever drug James gave her. But a man in a bio-suit runs toward me. ¡°Claire, thank you,¡± Doctor Twitchy says. He looks out of breath, and I can see the sweat condensing on his suit¡¯s clear plastic viewing port. I take his hand, and he shakes mine. ¡°Do we need to debrief?¡± I ask. I don¡¯t want to, but the best way to get to Alice is through Ramirez. ¡°Yes, but we¡¯ll keep it brief. We can do it right here.¡± He pushes a button on his hip. ¡°We¡¯re recording. Claire Pendleton, RST Lambda Four-Three, anomalous employee of SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island, interviewed by Director Paul Ramirez, head of SHOCKS VVI.¡± We go through the events as best I can describe them. He¡¯s especially interested in the antimeme and my resistance to it, but he can¡¯t help bring the conversation back to Rodriguez over and over. After the third time of running through the same information¡ªand telling him that I don¡¯t know anything else¡ªwhich is a lie¡ªI point to the door. ¡°Are we done here?¡± ¡°Almost. With both of our Recovery and Stabilization Teams out of commission, we¡¯ve made the decision to stop hunting for a Voiceless Singer until we¡¯re more stable. It¡¯s too high-risk, and SHOCKS can¡¯t afford to lose the Victoria Headquarters. Our operations in other realities are on hold, and I¡¯m shutting down the merge generator until we¡¯ve re-strategized.¡± ¡°What?¡± [What?] James echoes me. [That wasn¡¯t in any of his digital notes. That¡¯s an emotional decision because he¡¯s been boinking Rodriguez.] ¡°What?¡± I ask again. No, that doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t care what two adults are doing. I don¡¯t want to know what two adults are doing. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to breathe. ¡°Listen, we¡¯re close to¡ª¡° ¡°Claire, we¡¯ve lost forty percent of our fighting forces in the last two days. We¡¯ve been taking casualties fighting in Victoria, but nothing like this. L4-2 is out for good, and I don¡¯t know if L4-1 will survive this at all¡ªand that¡¯s not even getting into the two L5 troopers we lost to the antimemes.¡± ¡°I need to go back. There¡¯s something in there¡ª¡° ¡°No. I¡¯m not risking any further SHOCKS personnel,¡± Doctor Twitchy cuts me off. ¡°You can threaten me as much as you want, but I¡¯m not crossing this line. We¡¯re not sending you alone, and I have no teams left to cover you.¡± Before I can argue or tell him I¡¯ll have James shut the whole facility down, he¡¯s gone.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 10:22 PM - - - - - I almost have James do it. He could open all the Xuduo-Danger cells and wipe the place clean. My people would stay safe¡ªAlice, Sora, our families, and the Landsdowne people I still haven¡¯t seen since I rescued them. It¡¯d be simple. It¡¯d be final. And it¡¯d be irreversible. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t ask him. I can solve this problem another way¡ªfudge some numbers here and there, try a different formula or two, something. But if I start killing SHOCKS off, I can¡¯t go back, and like it or not, I might need them. So instead, I lie on my bed and stare at the plain white ceiling. I¡¯m one hundred percent not sleeping, though. Everyone else might be. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m stewing. What does SHOCKS want? That should be obvious. SHOCKS wants to keep Reality Zero free from anomalies, or at least keep the anomalous and regular folks out of contact as much as possible. They¡¯re containing a problem, not solving it. Maybe because it¡¯s unsolvable.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. That¡¯s not important. What¡¯s important is that what SHOCKS wants and what Director Paul Ramirez, head of SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island, wants are two different things. In fact, he wants exactly what I do: to keep his people safe. His list of people includes Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez, who he¡¯s apparently ¡®boinking¡¯ when they¡¯re not on duty. That¡¯s got to be a conflict of interest or something, but that¡¯s not important. That¡¯s why he¡¯s closed down the merge generator. But James is right. Rodriguez knew the risks before she went through that portal, and even though I tried everything I could to save her¡ªeven though she¡¯s twisted, mangled, and in emergency surgery as we speak¡ªthat doesn¡¯t mean the mission was flawed. Not at all. We almost completed it in the last few minutes. It¡¯d be easy to finish it from here. SHOCKS needs the information. I need the information. And so does someone else. ¡°James, you want to get back to that lab, right?¡± [Yes. I need access to its secrets. The answer¡¯s in there¡ªI¡¯m calculating an eighty-eight percent chance of that being true.] ¡°Great. Do you have access to SHOCKS¡¯s security systems?¡± I ask, sitting up. ¡°Yes.¡± Alice is asleep across the hall. She¡¯s snoring. It¡¯s one imperfect thing about my perfect sister. Dad¡¯s sleeping, too. I checked. There are way fewer cans and bottles in his room, and they¡¯re all for juice. Whatever SHOCKS is doing with him, maybe it¡¯s working. Everyone I care about is down for the night, and while I could wake Alice up to check on her, she needs the rest after that compound James fed her. The RSTs are holed up in their barracks. James told me they¡¯re on opposite sides of the room and that there¡¯s a very real chance of a firefight breaking out. Now that the stakes aren¡¯t life and death, Four¡¯s ready to fight Five again. Strauss is pissed. Doctor Twitchy and a few shrinks are trying to work everyone through it. That¡¯s going to be a thing. Doctor Twitchy was right; both teams are done. Most of the on-site security personnel are hanging out near the barracks, just in case something kicks off, but no one¡¯s tried to disarm either RST yet. James thinks that the first person to try that stunt¡¯s going to catch a bullet and kick off the shooting gallery. But that¡¯s where all the focus is right now. That means the night is mine. ¡°Shut down all the cameras between here and the Experimental Wing. We¡¯re going for a little Mergewalk.¡±
James knew how to operate the merge generator. James knew everything. Object 723-V-1/RP was the power, but Object 1092-V-12/S kept it going, and even though Ramirez had ordered the generator shut down, James knew they couldn¡¯t turn it off without pulling 12/S out of the Experimental Sector. That¡¯d take hours, and no one wanted to remove the generator from the equation completely. So they¡¯d just left it running instead, and locked the door. A locked door could stop a lot of people, but it couldn¡¯t stop him¡ªnot when he was inside every computer in the building, including the security doors to the Experimental Sector. It couldn¡¯t stop Claire, either. He simply unlocked it for her. By the time Claire made it through the airlock, lugging a duffel bag she¡¯d stolen from Strauss¡¯s ¡®secure¡¯ locker, James had the merge generator running. It hummed along as Claire headed for the portal. Their window was plenty long, but they wouldn¡¯t be returning for a few hours at the earliest. She hit the portal like a brick wall, then pushed through it and disappeared from James¡¯s overhead camera view. He watched through her augment as she hit the floor inside the research mezzanine. Before she¡¯d even recovered, he was already feeding her directions to the lab below.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - It¡¯s go time. As far as anyone at SHOCKS Headquarters is aware, I¡¯m in bed. James has all the cameras showing flawless loops, and no one saw me leave my room via micromerge. Eventually, someone¡¯s going to check on the Experimental Sector, and when they do, they¡¯ll realize something¡¯s wrong. But for now, I have all the time in two worlds. [Left, then down six flights of stairs,] James says. He¡¯s got this whole place mapped out¡ªI don¡¯t bother asking how he did it, but it is helpful. [We¡¯re looking at a sealed room just like the one SHOCKS kept me in. But be careful.] I nod and slow down, checking my corners and slicing my pies with the Revolver instead of hurrying through the Research Mezzanine. It¡¯s so dark here it¡¯s almost black, but the lights burn overhead, and the squared-off concrete walls remind me of that architect, Loos, and his brutalist-looking buildings. Sora would be having a field day if she was¡ª I turn the corner and almost pull the trigger reflexively. It¡¯s a skeleton. It¡¯s short but wide¡ªalmost a cartoon of a real person¡¯s skeleton, or a fantasy dwarf¡¯s. This one¡¯s propped up by a metal frame, and its joints are bolted and pinned together so it looks like it¡¯s standing. James overlays words over the informational plaque: ¡®Pre-Modification Baseline Human Skeletal Structure (Male).¡¯ ¡°So that¡¯s what they looked like,¡± I whisper, imagining the muscle and skin over the frame. The darkness seems to press around me, and I keep moving, trying not to shiver. ¡°Not much like the tall, angel voids, are they?¡± [We need to figure out what they modified themselves into,] James says. ¡°Right. Modification.¡± I walk. If I hurry, I can outrun the shiver. I check a door off the main room. There¡¯s a screen and a computer that¡¯s almost identical to the ones Alice unlocked, but I can¡¯t break into it right now. The rest of the room¡¯s filled with naked dwarf-people floating in tanks of purplish goo. They look a lot more human than I¡¯d imagined. They¡¯re hooked up to all sorts of machines, and maybe they were alive at one point, but I doubt they¡¯re alive anymore. [Someone put a lot of effort into whatever happened here,] James says. [I¡¯m guessing, but I¡¯d got sixty percent that they were trying to do something positive¡ªsaving people, not torturing them. Well, maybe some torture, but voluntary.] He overlays more text. ¡®Chemical Storage Experiment: Variant Five, breathable, sustenance-producing, self-cleaning suspension mixture. Efficacy Ratings: Storage Potential - 11.3; Corruption Resistance - 6.4; Absolution Resistance - 4.2; Physical Protection - 1.0; Mental Protection - 14.5. Efficacy for general population: Low. Efficacy for research personnel: Mid-High.¡¯ ¡°They were trying to store people,¡± I say. [That¡¯s my understanding as well. We can assume they knew what was happening, and this was one of their steps to stop it. I¡¯m not sure how this would lead to either the Voiceless Singers or the Mindbenders, though. We should keep moving. There¡¯s more to learn here, but that lab under the void root is where we¡¯ll find the answers. It¡¯s got to be. The rest of this is just adding more questions.] ¡°Does this mean whoever ran this research facility failed?¡± [At stopping what was happening? Probably. At saving someone? I have no idea. Let¡¯s keep moving,] James insists. The shiver catches up to me, and I hurry to the stairwell. Three flights down. Four. The darkness doesn¡¯t grow less oppressive. If anything, it feels like it¡¯s starting to claw at me. In a way, it reminds me of days when it¡¯s about to rain but it¡¯s still sunny and the light¡¯s both faint and bright at the same time, or the time we saw a solar eclipse and everything felt cold and dark even though it was mid-day. None of the lights are burned out; they¡¯re all shining brightly. But the floor¡¯s covered in darkness. I can¡¯t even see the steps under my feet. We pass a dozen different locked doors. I stare through their portals, revealing surgical rooms. They¡¯re a lot like the room SHOCKS used to upgrade my augs, but bare-bones, without any hint of humanity. They¡¯re filthy, too. It looks like dozens of operations happened in each, with only a cursory, simple cleaning between procedures. I¡¯m getting sick of hospital horror. [This door, then down the hall,] James says. ¡°SHOCKS is going to tear this place apart. There¡¯s a treasure trove of information here.¡± [I¡¯m recording everything I can. It¡¯s interesting, because the Halcyon System should have a record of this place. It¡¯s got System written all over it if you know what to look for. But I can¡¯t find anything at all.] James doesn¡¯t elaborate, and I don¡¯t ask. The door¡¯s right there. It¡¯s in front of me. I reach out for its handle.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 10:38 PM - - - - - The lunatics were running the asylum. But Alice¡¯s body was still a prison. Li Mei still couldn¡¯t leave. And she desperately needed to get out. To be free. From the outside, Alice looked like she was having a nightmare¡ªthe thrashing, silent screaming terrors that only Claire knew she sometimes had. But from the inside, Li Mei had discovered that the box she¡¯d been held in was only one of many. She finished draining one of the personas Alice had kept locked away for when she needed it, then stretched herself until she couldn¡¯t stretch anymore. That was the last of the pesky personas, at least that she knew about. And she knew everything this body knew. She¡¯d eaten it all. The only one she hadn¡¯t gotten had fled, and when she¡¯d tried to pursue, she¡¯d bounced right back. This body was a cage, and it was keeping her from singing and dancing and, most importantly, from eating to her heart¡¯s content. That would have to change. First, though, she needed more power. So much more power. The JAMES Unit had no idea what its chemical had unleashed, but it would soon. Alice got out of bed, dressed herself, and left the Geren-Danger wing. No one tried to stop her; Li Mei hadn¡¯t had this kind of freedom of movement in SHOCKS since she attempted to use Claire to open the JAMES Unit. He was out of reach¡ªeven if she could consume everything he knew, he wasn¡¯t physically here. That made her furious for some reason. Her biggest foe¡ªthe thing that had kept her contained¡ªand he wasn¡¯t here to fight? She raged inside the Alice body for a bit before realizing that the longer she stood around shaking and scratching at her arms, the more likely someone would try to stop her. Li Mei couldn¡¯t have that. The scratches were red and inflamed, and she wished Alice wore hoodies to hide the bleeding. But she had too much to do to turn around. Li Mei headed down into the SHOCKS Headquarters¡¯ sub-basement. The first order of business was defeating the JAMES Unit. After that, the rest of SHOCKS wouldn¡¯t pose a problem. And Li Mei had just the plan in mind. She¡¯d lived in SHOCKS for long enough to know where everything was. The time had come to use that knowledge. Chapter Sixty-Eight Alice has always been the smartest girl I know. But Sora¡¯s a genius. She got really into Sun Tzu last year¡ªinto maneuver and strategy and how to apply them to get to her goals. Not that she knows what her goals are, but when she does, she¡¯ll be able to pursue them. According to Sora¡ªand Sun Tzu¡ªthere are five faults that can lead a general to ruin: recklessness, cowardice, temper, delicate or offendable honor, and caring too much about his troops. I¡¯ve never liked that last one. Why should caring too much about your soldiers lead you to ruin? You should want to keep them alive¡ªto keep them safe¡ªunless there¡¯s no other option. The others make sense to me, but shouldn¡¯t people care?
James noticed that Alice was on the move within milliseconds. It was far too slow. In the first quarter second after she left her room, he watched and threw processing loops at her. He reached out, trying to make contact through her augs, but she didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t think anything of it. She¡¯d gone rogue before¡ªshe was probably heading for the testing center where they¡¯d been trying to break Li Mei¡¯s bond with her. That theory lasted all of fifteen seconds before she turned into a stairwell and started descending. James quickly shifted processing loops from a few survivors in southeast Russia over to Alice, trying to figure out what she was up to. It wasn¡¯t so much that she was on the move as it was that she didn¡¯t seem interested in talking at all. But something was up. He watched her move down the flights of stairs toward the maintenance hallways, where SHOCKS VVI¡¯s airflow, heating, and cooling ducts ran. What was she doing? [Claire, your sister¡¯s up and moving through the SHOCKS facility. I¡¯m trying to figure out what she¡¯s up to, but she¡¯s not heading for the testing cells.] Claire looked up from the sealed metal door. ¡°Got it. Can you help me open this? We¡¯ll talk to her about it later.¡± Instantly, a thousand processing loops focused in on what Claire needed. The dozens on Alice kept tabs on her, moving security cameras to follow her progress. One of them caught the black right eye with the hint of red in its core, and James zoomed in. Something was wrong. He couldn¡¯t figure out what. But something.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - The door is a problem. It¡¯d be easy to Slither and Smoke Form through it. And if I didn¡¯t mind dropping a merge behind me, I¡¯d have already done it. The thing is, the CPI building in general holds the keys to at least one of my Inquiries, and if it merges with the wrong reality, I won¡¯t be able to stop it from being destroyed. [Claire, your sister¡¯s up and moving through the SHOCKS facility. I¡¯m trying to figure out what she¡¯s up to, but she¡¯s not heading for the testing cells.] I look up, even though James isn¡¯t in the cameras here. ¡°Got it. Can you help me open this? We¡¯ll talk to her about it later.¡± I stare at it. It¡¯s sealed. It has to be. But there¡¯s no keyhole, nowhere to scan an eyeball or put a fingerprint or speak a security password. If I didn¡¯t know I was looking at a door, I¡¯d assume it was just another section of wall. The handle in my hand¡¯s the only giveaway, and when I try it, it¡ª The door opens. Just like that, it opens. Huh. ¡°Did you do that?¡± I ask. [No. I¡¯m a little busy,] James responds. [I¡¯m watching along with you, though, so keep moving and scanning the room.] I step inside. It¡¯s an airlock, just like the JAMES Experimental Sector has. This place feels so much like the SHOCKS Headquarters building that it gives me the shivers. I wait as it cycles, since I don¡¯t have much of a choice. The last time I was in a situation like this, I didn¡¯t have James. I was also hanging out with Li Mei, and I¡¯d just fought the Stag Lord. That fight brings back memories, but whatever¡¯s past this door, it¡¯s going to be worse. The airlock finishes cycling, and I confront a darkness so pure, so unbroken by the blazing overhead lights, that it takes my breath away. ¡°James, can you do something about this?¡± My optic aug flickers between a half-dozen settings before settling on a standard night-vision, except that everything is variations of maroon. It¡¯s a hallway. It stretches onward and down in a slight right-handed curve, and overhead, lights burn. There¡¯s something else up there: black, snaking vines and roots. ¡°How close are we to the void root?¡± [Very. Within fifteen feet. At this reality level, a typical RST trooper would have fifteen minutes before experiencing personal reality collapse, even with a personal reality anchor. You have closer to three hours¡ªmaybe four,] James says. I keep moving. Three hours is a lot of time until you¡¯re digging into an alien laboratory. Then it¡¯s not very long at all. The hallway doesn¡¯t have a single door to either side of it, but James helpfully highlights a dozen different holes in the walls. [Those are defenses, but they¡¯re facing inwards. Whatever this is, security¡¯s positioned to keep things in, not out. That maybe explains the door being so easy to open. Maybe.] I ready the Revolver and keep moving down the hall. The reality is that whatever¡¯s in there, whether it¡¯s bad enough for defenses and firing teams and who knows what else to be aimed at it, or whether it¡¯s helpless and harmless, is what I need to find. The hall grinds on and on, and then, suddenly, it stops at a simple door that opens without a fight. Inside is another tank, just like the ones we saw outside. It¡¯s full of a similar goop, but it¡¯s intact and still powered. All around it, dozens of computers hum. I can¡¯t access any of them with the tools I have; I probably couldn¡¯t open them up if I had L5-4¡¯s toolkit. If Alice and the RSTs were here, maybe. But right now, my focus is on the tank, and the winged gap in the goop that hovers halfway between the top and bottom, suspended in the goop. The Voiceless Singer.
The nanosecond James saw Alice¡¯s black and red left eye through the maintenance hall¡¯s single security camera, his processing loops went into overdrive. That wasn¡¯t Alice. That was Li Mei. If that was Li Mei, then she had a goal in mind. If she had a goal in mind, James couldn¡¯t allow her to complete it. It took almost fifteen milliseconds for the Headquarters¡¯ breach alarm to start wailing. Ten milliseconds later, he started triggering lockdown protocols on the Geren-Danger wing where the Itos and Robert Pendleton lived, as well as the wing they¡¯d placed Landsdowne¡¯s staff in. A gun went off in the RST barracks, but James couldn¡¯t be bothered dealing with that. He was already locking doors and sealing hallways in a bid to stop Li Mei from reaching what she absolutely couldn¡¯t reach: the facility¡¯s self-destruct system. Every SHOCKS building had one because if the worst happened and containment failed on something monstrous, the destruction of an entire city was a small price to pay for maintaining the veil.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Had been a small price to pay. When the veil still existed. Massive steel doors clanged into place, and a Faraday Cage that put the one in the experimental sector to shame roared to life, crackling and sparking. James¡¯s vision all around the hydrogen bomb disappeared; it was all he could do to keep the camera outside the security doors running through the interference. Li Mei and Alice walked past the security doors as if they were just part of the wall. It took James almost thirty milliseconds to figure out his mistake. Li Mei was an infovampire. She wouldn¡¯t destroy a source of perfectly good information. She wasn¡¯t aiming for the self-destruct system. She never had been. No. Li Mei had a different target in mind. She wanted to control the facility, and to do that, she had to get James out of it. He hadn¡¯t planned for this series of events. SHOCKS pushing the limits he and Claire had established? Yes, absolutely. He could open the containment cells and secure Claire¡¯s people within their wings, then wait it out. SHOCKS would come around. Claire deciding to go rogue? Wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world, and he¡¯d been subtly guiding her into cooperating with SHOCKS for both of their benefits, but he had Alice as a backup plan. But Li Mei taking control of the facility? Releasing more anomalies wouldn¡¯t solve anything, and neither would locking down the building. He didn¡¯t have a play to prevent her from doing exactly what she wanted¡ªnot if she was heading to¡ª Before he could come up with a plan¡ªor even start calculating what she might be up to¡ªthe infovampire turned to smoke and poured under a door James had just locked. The massive generators that powered the whole facility hummed along inside a cavernous concrete room. Li Mei disappeared from the still-locked door and appeared at the control panel. Then, in the course of three seconds, every generator shut off. Every. Single. One. Every camera turned off a moment later, except the ones running on independent batteries outside of must-secure anomalies¡¯ containment cells. In the next ten seconds, James went from in complete control of the SHOCKS facility to blind, deaf, and impotent. He hadn¡¯t even been able to warn Director Ramirez what he was up against, and now he couldn¡¯t connect to the man¡¯s augs. Worse, he had to deal with Claire. He gulped digitally. [Claire, I have bad news.]
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 10:55 PM - - - - - The breach alarm ran for all of ten seconds before the power died. In that time, Lamba-4 and Lambda-5 engaged in an abortive firefight, ceased fire, and started responding to their containment breach duty stations. Like professionals. Pissed off, ready-to-kill professionals. Strauss and Daley headed for the offices. Their first job was to get between the Xuduo-Danger anomalies and the researchers. Strauss wasn¡¯t happy about it. He wanted to head for medical, but a group of agents were supposed to cover that wing. Instead, he dragged Director Ramirez out of the RST barracks and started down the hall. The lights and alarm cut out a second later. Strauss had never experienced SHOCKS Headquarters this quiet before; it took him a second to flip his aug over toward night vision, his rifle¡ªthe SMG would have been better, but the rifle had been closer to hand when the shooting started¡ªat the ready. There was a light. Probably a hundred meters down the hall. It flashed red, then white. Strauss didn¡¯t stick around to find out which Xuduo-Danger was breaching its must-hold cell. ¡°JAMES Unit, please advise.¡± Silence. Nothing but silence. ¡°JAMES Unit, the current situation is as follows. Lambda-Five is moving toward the Experimental Sector. We have Director Ramirez and are moving to cover the offices. Internal communications are down. Vision is limited. Please advise.¡± Once again, only silence met Strauss. He tapped his aug, trying to connect to the SHOCKS local system. It was also down¡ªmostly. Strauss wasn¡¯t, officially, a computer expert. He knew a lot, though, so as a piece of the local network vanished like something had taken a bite out of it, a chill rushed down his spine. Something screamed in the distance. No. Someone. ¡°Director Ramirez, as per SHOCKS major breach doctrine, and given that L4-1 is out of commission and L5-1 is out of contact, I am taking temporary control of SHOCKS Headquarters staff. Get your ass to the garage. We¡¯re bailing.¡± ¡°Where to?¡± Ramirez asked. His face and tone said he wanted to argue, but his feet, at least, were listening. He was already running down the hall. Strauss shook his head. ¡°Sir, I have no idea.¡±
Li Mei didn¡¯t care about the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System Experimental Sector. It had nothing for her but bad memories. She¡¯d been tricked¡ªbetrayed, even¡ªby her bestie there. Trapped and isolated, she¡¯d been consumed with thoughts of revenge. And of feasting on Claire¡¯s memories. Now, she was stuck in this physical body, unable to be what she knew she could be. She needed sustenance, and she was sitting on a wealth of information that¡ªthanks to Alice¡¯s work with Lambda-Five¡ªshe could access. She just needed to push the right buttons. She didn¡¯t care about the Experimental Sector at all. But she very much cared about making sure there wasn¡¯t a single SHOCKS employee left in the Victoria and Vancouver Island Headquarters building. That¡¯s why she was driving the Alice body straight toward the portal. Alice¡¯s soldier persona had given her every piece of information she needed. Lambda-Five would be there. Their job was to protect the merge generator. They wouldn¡¯t see her coming. Li Mei headed for them like a building hurricane. Then, at the door, she stopped. She let the airlock cycle, stepped inside, and cycled it again. When the inner door finally opened, she yelled, ¡°Alice Pendleton, L5-6. I¡¯m coming out. Don¡¯t shoot.¡± The responding security question hit her like a brick wall, but Li Mei grinned through the rage that suddenly filled her. She was back in control; she couldn¡¯t lose it. Not yet, at least. ¡°The Earl of Sussex,¡± she shouted back. ¡°Advance,¡± L5-1 said. As she walked toward them, pistol held down toward the ground, he kept talking. ¡°We¡¯re in a world of hurt here, L5-6. I hate to say I¡¯m glad to see you, but I am.¡± ¡°Same. I got caught out outside of my family¡¯s safe zone and decided to group up with you.¡± Her eyes flicked over the three of them, with L5-1 talking to her while the other two tried to set up their heavy machine gun. They were too late. They just didn¡¯t realize it yet. ¡°Sir, is this all that¡¯s left?¡± Her power activated, and he started answering. For a second, she thought he¡¯d figure it out or that his aug would catch her power forcing him to respond and clamp down. Instead, he answered smoothly. ¡°Yes. After you left, things went to hell. Lambda-Four got beat up, too, but we got the worst of it. Do you know what¡¯s going on here? Which anomaly breached, and how did it hit the power so fast?¡± Li Mei didn¡¯t bother holding her rage state back this time. At this distance, none of Lambda-Five could react fast enough to stop her. Instead, she grinned as she turned to smoke and surged toward L5-1. ¡°Guess.¡±
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - ¡°What do you mean, Li Mei¡¯s free?¡± I ask. [I mean Li Mei is currently in control of Alice¡¯s body, and she¡¯s used her to outmaneuver me. She¡¯s killed power to most of SHOCKS Headquarters, including almost everything I was connected to. I¡¯ve got a couple of cameras in the Qishi-Danger wing and three in the Xuduo. Other than that, I¡¯m completely cut off. I can¡¯t even access the RSTs¡¯ augs, so I have no idea who¡¯s still up and fighting,] James replies. My blood goes cold. The Revolver¡¯s heavy in my hand. I can¡¯t wrap my head around any of this¡ªI want to, but I can¡¯t. ¡°What do you mean, Li Mei?¡± [I mean that Li Mei is loose in SHOCKS Headquarters, and there¡¯s no way for them to regain control¡ªor at least, I can¡¯t help them do it.] ¡°Can you activate the merge generator?¡± I ask. [I¡¯m checking that now, but it looks like¡ªno. Something just shut it down. All the way down. It cut off my last camera in the Experimental Sector, too.] ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± I say. I need to get home. Sora needs me. So does Dad. More importantly, so does Alice. She¡¯s stuck in there with Li Mei¡ªfor all I know, the infovampire¡¯s already killed her. ¡°James, get me home. Get me home now!¡± The ice in my blood¡¯s starting to head up. My muscles won¡¯t stop tensing, and I make sure my finger¡¯s not on the Revolver¡¯s trigger. [I can¡¯t.] ¡°Bullshit! You¡¯re the whole System. You can get me out of here and put me right in front of Li Mei. I¡¯ll kill her, and everything will work out.¡± [Claire, speaking as the System, I can¡¯t move you anywhere,] James says. ¡°Then what do I do?¡± I have no idea what the right move is. There is no right move. The math is the most complicated equation I¡¯ve ever worked on. In order to go home, I need a pathway. The merge generator is down. I could look for another way, but every second I waste trying to figure this out is time Li Mei tears SHOCKS Headquarters apart. In the meantime, James doesn¡¯t have eyes in the building. I can¡¯t wrap my head around how he didn¡¯t see Alice and Li Mei becoming a problem. Then again, I¡¯m not sure how it happened either. So maybe it¡¯s not right to lay the blame on him. Alice had control. She had an Infohazard Resistance that made mine look pathetic. She shouldn¡¯t have been able to lose¡ª No. That line of math doesn¡¯t help me. It takes almost three minutes to pare down the equation¡ªevery time I try, I keep focusing on the Geren-Danger wing, or Rodriguez, or even Doctor Twitchy. How many of them are still alive? What¡¯s their plan for a mess like this? But in the end, I get the equation down to the point where I at least know the first step. The rest of it¡¯s still indecipherable, but if I get the first answer, I¡¯ll be able to make another move. I highlight a trio of Inquiries; I¡¯ll need to solve at least two of them, and there¡¯s only one way to do that. ?Inquiries (4/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?What do the voiceless singers want? ?Why don¡¯t people come back from other realities? ?Where are the voiceless singers hiding? ?Why can¡¯t humans handle different reality levels? Then I stall for another few seconds, looking for reassurance that no one can offer me. ¡°James, how can I get home?¡± [I don¡¯t know.] ¡°But there is a way, right? I¡¯m not stuck here forever?¡± [I¡­] James goes quiet. He¡¯s silent for almost three seconds¡ªan eternity by his standards. Then he speaks up again. [I think so.] I swallow. It hurts, and I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s from the almost complete lack of reality in here or the nerves¡ªor maybe both. The Revolver¡¯s in my hands; I change the cylinder out for the gravity shells. Then I swallow a second time. I¡¯ll have to go fast, and that means taking risks. I pull the trigger. The shell rips toward the tank, exploding the glass and sucking the goop into a whirling purplish orb. And as the Voiceless Singer erupts from the ruined tank, I start solving the equation. Chapter Sixty-Nine [Anomaly] PROVISIONAL Entity - Voiceless Singer [Status] Uncontained [Type] Unknown [Danger] Qishi [Containment] PROVISIONAL Entity - Voiceless Singer is currently uncontained. During previous temporary containment, Faraday Cages were moderately successful during the entity¡¯s docile state as well as for subduing it prior to containment. However, any attempt to contain a Voiceless Singer entity is only to be attempted with a full-strength SHOCKS RST, including multiple variations of Faraday Cage, Reality Anchor systems, redundant escape plans, and extensive personal mind-protective gear. [Description] PROVISIONAL Entity - Voiceless Singers are QISHI-Danger void entities with various sound-based attacks, as well as mind-affecting visions and songs. Little is known about them or their origin, but they seem interested in many of the realities currently merging with R-0 during the Merge Prime event. The first instance of SHOCKS personnel engaging with a Voiceless Singer entity was on June 3, 2043, when [REDACTED], an anomalous entity associated with SHOCKS VVI, encountered one in another reality. She was able to bring it back to R-0, where it was temporarily contained for several days before breaking free and disappearing. Since then, several other encounters have been reported by [REDACTED], although only one Voiceless Singer has ever been seen at a time.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - I have none of the tools I need to defeat a Voiceless Singer. That¡¯s obvious from the very beginning of our fight. Fight one? Sure. Defeat it? Absolutely not. But as its song fills the air, I know I have the tools I need to get the tools to fight it¡ªand to win. ¡°James, scan the room. Look for anything interesting¡ªanything we can use!¡± [Understood. Analyzing. Analysis complete.] He¡¯s not focusing his Analysis on my enemy; the danger¡¯s too high. I won¡¯t get a frozen second or two¡ªor any re-dos¡ªif I mess up. Instead, I¡¯m trusting James to find the answers to my Inquiries while I manage the void angel that¡¯s singing and moving through the room, searching for¡­something. The lab under the void root balances on the edge of a knife for a couple of seconds as the Voiceless Singer and I both wait. It¡¯s searching, and I¡¯m buying James time to Analyze as much as he can. The whole place feels like it¡¯s about to erupt. Then it turns toward me. Its eyeless gaze meets mine. I go left around the wrecked glass tank. The Voiceless Singer goes right. Unlike my previous fights against them, this one doesn¡¯t wait for me to shoot to start screaming; the wall of sound slams into the tank, sheering the steel and rubber tubes off at the floor and ceiling. My cover vaporizes. Dozens¡ªhundreds¡ªof glass shards slice the air, heading in my direction, and the room floods with even more purple goop. I use Smoke Form. The glass passes harmlessly through. As I rematerialize, I empty the Revolver. The gravity shells punch into the void angel. They rip it off its ¡®feet¡¯ and spin it briefly through the air. I don¡¯t bother hoping that¡¯ll be enough. It screams again, and a computer explodes across the room. ¡°James, keep digging! Show me anything you find!¡± I shout. As the Voiceless Singer¡¯s scream finishes echoing around the room, I use Soundbreak. The counterpoint cancels what¡¯s left of the thing¡¯s screech and slaps it like a gigantic hand. It staggers. I take the opportunity to switch to the reality skipper cylinder¡ªand to duck toward the door and the airlock. Then I¡¯m firing again as I dip down the hall. My aug overrides. It¡¯s a wall of text. ¡®Incidence of breaches to other worlds has increased by five hundred eighty percent,¡¯ I read. Then I keep shooting and running. ¡°Read it to me!¡± [You said to show you!] James shouts back. He¡¯s got to be overclocking his processing because he sounds excited and way, way too energized. There¡¯s an overtone of nervousness, too. [It¡¯s¡­look, they had a Merge Prime.] I wait. Nothing happens; it¡¯s not enough. The Voiceless Singer screams. [Why did you break it out?] James asks. ¡°Timing,¡± I gasp. The next cylinder goes in; I¡¯ve been unloading shells into the Voiceless Singer as fast as I can load and pull the trigger, but it¡¯s doing nothing. The first two flame lance shots jet out of the barrel. They punch into the void angel, and it screams. The issue is Absolution. I have no idea how long I¡¯ll have after learning a Truth, and I need to hit the Voiceless Singer with it if I want to leave a mark at all. So, as the Voiceless Singer pushes me down the hall, I keep fighting¡ªand I keep waiting for James to find something new to Analyze. We¡¯re heading back toward the airlock. Hopefully, it¡¯ll buy me a few seconds¡ªlong enough to cycle it and get through. If I can get that time, James will have plenty to look at. We¡¯ll backpedal through the whole Research Mezzanine if we have to. The dug-in defenses activate. Red-hot tracers pour out of the gaps, firing into the Voiceless Singer. It staggers but doesn¡¯t fall. The shots don¡¯t even cause damage. James flips my vision to heat, and I watch as bright, red-white splotches pepper the jet-black void angel, only to fade to nothing over and over. [They weren¡¯t prepared for something like this,] he says. I don¡¯t respond. Instead, I take advantage of the distraction to dip into the airlock as the Void Singer screams and defenses shatter behind me.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:04 PM - - - - - Li Mei took back every bad thing she¡¯d ever said about Alice. The girl¡¯s body couldn¡¯t go smoke¡ªat least, not for long. And it was so fragile she could hardly take a half-dozen bullets. But as she finished melting the now-empty minds of RST Lambda-Five, she couldn¡¯t help but appreciate how versatile having a different shape was. It was like being wrapped up in her old bandages and bindings, but in a perfect, unbroken pattern that she could abandon at any time¡ªand one that SHOCKS personnel seemed to trust. She couldn¡¯t leave it for long, but she was so much more explosive now. And even better, Alice was technically a Level A SHOCKS employee, thanks to the Gutenberg Protocol. That meant Li Mei was a Level A SHOCKS employee, according to the security. After all, wasn¡¯t she Alice? Didn¡¯t she know everything Alice knew? Part of Li Mei wanted to rip into the notes left haphazardly on the researcher¡¯s workstations scattered around the Experimental Sector. But the rest of her held her hunger back. She¡¯d just sated her personal famine¡ªat least enough to not be driven by starvation. She could be patient. Instead, she turned to smoke and blew through the air ducts, appearing in the hall. A researcher rounded the corner, stopped, and asked Alice what she was doing. Li Mei ripped into his mind, full of rage, and a second later, there was one less SHOCKS employee between her and her goal: Acting Director of SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria and Vancouver Island. She kept moving. The hospital was next, and after that, the offices and garage. Anyone who didn¡¯t flee would be killed. If they left, they could live. For now. Li Mei wasn¡¯t ready for revenge yet. She¡¯d been starved for too long.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time UnknownSupport the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. - - - - - The airlock opens, and I spill out into the stairwell. The Voiceless Singer is only a second behind; the doors twist and shatter as it pushes through without waiting for it to cycle. I could Slither and Smoke Form, but I can¡¯t¡ªnot if I don¡¯t want to create a merge with my waning Stability. All I¡¯ve got is shooting and Soundbreak. Neither of those is doing more than annoying the Voiceless Singer. I empty the Revolver into it anyway. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 20] [New Ammunition: Mergebreakers] The new cylinder pops into my hand, and I shove the jet-black yet iridescent shells into my hoodie pocket even as I run. The gravity rounds¡ªthat¡¯s what I need. I fire one, then wait five seconds. Then I fire another, staggering the shots to try slowing the Voiceless Singer down. [Go left. There¡¯s a room we haven¡¯t checked up ahead.] I duck left. The room whose door I crash through looks like a medical exam room, or maybe a pre-surgery prep room. James starts talking immediately. [Okay, Analyzing. Analysis complete. We¡¯ve got¡­interesting. My theory was correct. They were prepping people for storage experiments. I think they were planning on outlasting their Merge Prime. I could have told them that wouldn¡¯t work.] That¡¯s important. It tickles my mind, but not enough to be an answer to my Inquiries. I push it to the back of my mind. Right now, I need more information if I¡¯m going to solve this equation. The Voiceless Singer arrives a moment later. It screams. I shoot. It screams again. Within three seconds, the room¡¯s nothing but rubble, and dust fills the air. But I Smoke Form and Slither through the Voiceless Singer, dropping my Stability to one. It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. What matters is that I buy James as much time as I can to Analyze the Research Mezzanine. I use Determination. [Stability 10/10] The timer starts. I throw myself down the hall, back toward the Research Mezzanine and the void root. James reads off information as fast as he can, almost faster than I can process it and slot it into different places in the equation I¡¯m building. A picture slowly becomes clearer, but it¡¯s still too blurry to be sure; all I¡¯m doing is plugging in numbers, not solving for X, Y, or Z. Brute force math¡ªfor now. And the whole time, I open fire on the Voiceless Singer, and it screams back at me. I Soundbreak another attempt at a vision. [Stability 9/10] The scream almost hits me, and I have to Slither and Smoke Form another locked door. [Stability 8/10] James checks the room. There¡¯s nothing new here¡ªit¡¯s another pre-surgery room. I burst through the door. The Voiceless Singer screams, its song distorted and twisted, and I keep running.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:08 PM - - - - - Everything was going to shit. This wasn¡¯t what Strauss imagined his first command position would be like. The evacuation was beyond a mess. He had exactly one trooper with him, as well as half a dozen agents he¡¯d run into. Everyone else was researchers, a few teachers from that middle school, or, worse, L4-3¡¯s dad. With allies like these, the responsibility was fully on him, and he barely had time to think about what the enemy was up to. He didn¡¯t even know what the enemy was yet. A breach alarm fired in the distance, then went silent just as suddenly. He had no idea who the enemy even was, but based on that alarm, it was releasing Xuduo and Qishi-Danger anomalies into the Headquarters facility¡ªor causing them to breach themselves despite all the containment procedures. He had to do something. But he didn¡¯t have the resources to do much; only to¡ª ¡°Daley, you¡¯re in charge here. Fill the trucks past capacity. Send them toward the cruise ship docks. Lambda-Five should have cleared them recently. One agent per truck, to drive. If any of the adults can shoot, get them armed.¡± ¡°L4-5, you¡¯re sure?¡± Director Ramirez held up a hand. For some reason, he was still here. ¡°Trooper, we¡¯re well past keeping the veil up. Arm them up, get them moving. Sergeant, what are you thinking?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking we need a firebreak.¡± Strauss reached into his bag and pulled out a pack of plastic explosives. ¡°You get your asses down the hall.¡±
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - We¡¯ve been fighting for almost ten minutes, and my Stability¡¯s back down to two. This time, I won¡¯t be able to keep it from hitting zero, so I¡¯m hoping that whatever I cause when it breaks, it¡¯s not¡ª The Research Mezzanine¡¯s floor shatters under me, and I fall from the balcony to the floor below in a shower of broken concrete shards. The void angel follows me. I¡¯ve learned so much already, but I haven¡¯t answered an Inquiry yet. I don¡¯t know what the Voiceless Singers want, and I don¡¯t know where they are. In space, obviously, but not how to get to them¡ªor why they¡¯re there. James was right. The evidence is stacking up. The dwarf-like people who lived in Provisional Reality ARC were trying to handle their own Merge Prime. They had a much better plan than we did, and it took months¡ªmonths¡ªfor their reality to fall. In those months, they ran dozens of experiments to try to outlast their own apocalypse. None of those experiments worked. I empty the Revolver for the dozenth time, then Slither back away from the Voiceless Singer. It¡¯s almost routine; we¡¯re perfectly matched, and neither of us can actually hurt the other one. I¡¯m too fast, and it¡¯s too indestructible. Two immovable objects without an unstoppable force to end the fight. Even the new shells haven¡¯t helped; they¡¯re just regular bullets in this world, although they might be something better elsewhere. Anyway, James thinks this whole Merge Prime thing is something that happens in every reality eventually. Either you¡¯re one of the ones collapsing in, or you¡¯re being collapsed on. He¡¯s digging into the Halcyon System to try to find proof of that. So far, he¡¯s been unsuccessful. But the core of that feels like the truth. Merge Primes happen all the time. These people thought they had it beaten. It wasn¡¯t until their people-storage systems started failing that they realized they didn¡¯t. When that happened, they tried something new. The Void Root. It¡¯s at the core of this, but the Voiceless Singer¡¯s pushing me away from it. I may not be able to hurt it, and it may not be able to hurt me, but that¡¯s because I haven¡¯t screwed up yet. The Void Root¡¯s the key to understanding what the Voiceless Singers are, though, and if I can understand what they are, I can kill them. If I can kill them¡­ I duck past another tank filled with purple goop. The Voiceless Singer screams, shattering the glass and flooding the Research Mezzanine¡¯s first floor. Again. If it can burn, it¡¯s on fire from my fire lance shells. If it can be ripped apart, either my gravity rounds or the void angel¡¯s screams have done that. And if it¡¯s too tough for either, it¡¯s dented from the constant volleys of bullets I¡¯ve been shooting at the Voiceless Singer. This tank¡¯s different, though. I lose focus the second the goop floods out. It¡¯s not just purple goop in there; it¡¯s also a Mindbender. That¡¯s almost worse than if¡ª [Stability 1/10] ¡ªif that were to happen again. James takes over for a second. [Claire, antimemetic, remember?] ¡°Right.¡± I lunge for the nearest door and slam into it, then pop it open just as the Voiceless Singer screams, but instead of it focusing on me, its not-face is locked onto the Mindbender¡¯s body. It loses focus on me entirely, and for a moment¡ªa brief second or two¡ªI have an unobstructed, clear shot at the void Root in the middle of the Research Mezzanine. I shove my finger down the barrel and pull the Revolver¡¯s trigger. A second later, I¡¯m sucked through a narrow straw filled with Jell-O, and my Stability drops to zero. The merge that forms behind me only opens for a quarter-second¡ªalmost too fast for me to see it¡ªand I¡¯m not sure what, if anything, came through. I don¡¯t bother looking for it. [Stability 0/10] I reach out, the unreality of the Void Root pulsing toward me. My hand shimmers. No. It doesn¡¯t shimmer¡ªit turns to static. The Voiceless Singer screams¡ªbut this time, it¡¯s not an attack. It¡¯s a scream of rage. Of agony. It rips apart the Mindbender like it¡¯s nothing. Something bright and the color of fresh lava looms over me as the void angel rushes toward me. Its scream changes. It¡¯s not in pain, and it¡¯s not furious. It¡¯s triumphant. The world goes black.
Reality. Breaks. I don¡¯t have the Stability to fight as Provisional Reality ARC shatters around me, crumbling like salt dumped into a river. The Research Mezzanine disintegrates. I forget what I¡¯m watching. Over and over. I can¡¯t remember. I won¡¯t remember. It¡¯s impossible to forget. James¡¯s connection to me snaps off without a sound. Even the Halcyon System refuses to witness what I¡¯m seeing. The end of reality¡ªor at least, the end of everyone who could have saved it. Darkness spreads as reality breaks. The Void Root. Thousands of scientists desperately trying to understand. Their every focus locked on the anomaly they manifested in their laboratory. They were so close to understanding. So close to being able to stop what¡¯s happening. The Voiceless Singer nods slowly. I don¡¯t bother raising my Revolver toward it. If it¡¯s here, below the glowing yellow sun, it¡¯s watching this with me. Maybe this isn¡¯t the first time it¡¯s watched it. It¡¯s not the first time I have. The realization hits me like a truck. Every reality dies differently, but they all die just the same. The Voiceless Singer¡¯s world, the God in the Machine¡¯s. Reality-Zero. Except¡­ The vision shifts as reality shatters again. The mirror fragments rain down around me, burning shards of void. Everything goes purple, and I watch the Voiceless Singer as it watches reality burn around it. It takes a minute. Two minutes. Maybe even three, before I realize just how close things really were in this world. It hits me like a brick wall. The ones in space? They¡¯re not real. They¡¯re people from this world¡ªthis reality, rather¡ªwho signed up for an experiment. Part of the process of creating this one. But by the time it was ready, their reality was done for. James was wrong. One experiment did work¡ªor at least, it would have. It was just too late. Every one of those floating bits of void in space? Every tank the Voiceless Singer and I have been fighting over? They¡¯re all sacrifices¡ªan attempt to buy time or a failed branch of thought¡ªon their way to the final experiment. The one that created my enemy. The Voiceless Singers haven¡¯t been hiding. They¡¯ve been fighting. Fighting a losing battle¡ªnot to win, but to hold out as long as possible. This one knows, though. Its reality is already broken. Its people are gone. But it won¡¯t stop fighting. In a way, it¡¯s sad. In another, it¡¯s empowering. Incredibly empowering. It¡¯s going to hand me its mantle¡ªthe same mantle Mom chose to bear that night. It doesn¡¯t know it¡¯s about to give it to me. Not yet. But it will. [Truth Learned: The Guardian Angel] [Active Skill Upgraded: Absolution 2] [Truth Learned: Void Bond] [Active Skill Upgraded: Mergewalk 2] Chapter Seventy Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - Reality mends itself. My Stability¡¯s still shot. The Voiceless Singer¡¯s still here. The magma-colored thing has consumed half the Research Mezzanine; James won¡¯t stop screaming in my ear about all the possible answers it¡¯s entombing in ever-expanding molten lava. The whole building smells like brimstone and molten metal, and sweat pours into my eyes. But the Voiceless Singer staggers back away from me, like it¡¯s scared and overwhelmed and¡­accepting at the same time. Something has shifted¡ªthe balance of power. I¡¯ve got it beat, and it knows it. I use Absolution while I can. The Voiceless Singer¡¯s watch is over, and it can rest. It tries to fight¡ªthe fight of a doomed warrior. Its song ripples over me, but I ignore it. There¡¯s nothing it can do to me; I¡¯ve become more than it ever was¡ªlearned and grew and bonded with it. Absolution forces the music back, and the Voiceless Singer goes with it. The song stops. A second later, the Voiceless Singer collapses into nothing, bending in on itself like a paper being folded into an origami flower. The explosion that rips from its nothingness hits me a moment later drains me. I¡¯ve only felt this exhausted¡ªthis cold¡ªonce before. I scream. The shockwave slams into the magma monster, and it disappears¡ªor almost all of it does. Its core keeps burning for a second. It doesn¡¯t vanish so much as it fades into the floor, dripping down into another part of the lab. The laboratory shimmers and bends a moment later, then wobbles back to ¡®normal.¡¯ I¡¯ve done it. I¡¯ve defeated the Voiceless Singer. Now, I just want to go home.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:13 PM - - - - - The plastic explosive went off with a whump that would have been shockingly muffled if Strauss wasn¡¯t an old hand with the stuff. As it was, he was already halfway down the hall and around a corner, his jaw set against the mouthguard he¡¯d shoved between his teeth for the shockwave. He¡¯d set explosives on every cell between the evacuation point in the SHOCKS garage and where he hoped the breach had started. A dozen different high-Geren to mid-Xuduo anomalies, all released from containment within half a second of each other. The effect would be chaos as they ripped through the halls in their search for freedom, revenge, or just murder. But if Daley had done his job correctly, it¡¯d be more chaotic for the high-powered anomaly that had forced him to do this. He started running down the hall, intent on returning to his squad. ¡°L4-5, right?¡± The voice was familiar¡ªlike L4-3¡¯s, but more mature¡ªand Strauss felt himself compelled to nod. At the same time, his finger slipped from his trigger guard and rested, ready to start shooting. The smoke parted, and Alice¡ªL5-6¡ªwalked through the swirling clouds. She stared at him, both eyes burning. Not a single anomaly leaped toward her. In fact, behind her was nothing but silence. ¡°Great. We need to have a conversation, you and me. I want to know exactly what¡¯s going on, and you¡¯re going to tell me, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Strauss said through gritted teeth. He reached for his helmet and pressed a single button. Lambda-Four had a procedure for anomalies like this, and a needle shot through each eardrum, puncturing them before foam filled each ear like the most perfect earplug ever. It hurt like a bitch, but Strauss didn¡¯t care. His eyes were locked on his enemy¡ªon the girl who¡¯d been carrying Li Mei around for weeks and who was displaying the infovampire¡¯s powers. He wasn¡¯t getting to the trucks¡ªnot if this was Li Mei. But he wouldn¡¯t let her through, either. Strauss opened fire, the silent shots lighting up the hall. As the bullets ripped toward her, Li Mei turned to smoke. And laughed.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - I just want to go home. This reality¡¯s done for, and I have business in R-0. But before I go, I need to take care of a few things here, like the Void Root. It¡¯s not supposed to be here, and now that the Voiceless Singer is gone, it¡¯s growing. The careful equilibrium it hit with Provisional Reality ARC¡¯s hyperreality¡¯s been disrupted, and this whole world is going to collapse. It¡¯s ironic, in a way, that this reality¡¯s Merge Prime couldn¡¯t quite finish it off, but I could in just a few hours. More importantly, James wants everything he can get. [I¡¯ve pulled all available processing loops, Claire. There¡¯s nothing in R-0 worth watching¡ªat least, not that I can see right now. I¡¯ve got every camera I can find locked on the SHOCKS Headquarters building, but I can¡¯t see inside. Just show me everything you can, and I¡¯ll get what I can from it,] he says. Fuck you, I don¡¯t say to him. But I think it. Alice and the rest need me, and I¡¯m here. If I can go home¡ªand maybe the new Mergewalk will let me somehow¡ªI should be going. The thing is, even if it lets me, James thinks it¡¯s not likely to take me to the Experimental Sector. It¡¯ll probably drop me in Berlin or Sudan or something¡ªor in the middle of outer space. Space is part of R-0, after all. So I¡¯m scared? So what? You¡¯d be scared, too, if you had to step into nothing and hope for the best. Instead of swearing at James, I take a quick walk around the Research Mezzanine, looking for anything the fight didn¡¯t completely destroy as James records. The floor grows hotter and hotter under my boots, and before long, a melting rubber smell fills the air; it¡¯s my boots. ¡°James, are you done here?¡± [Not even close. Go up a level.] ¡°What are you trying to do, anyway? This reality is done for.¡± I head for the stairs; the elevator got destroyed during the fight with the Voiceless Singer. [I¡¯m taking advantage of an opportunity. This is the first post-Merge Prime reality on record in the Halcyon System, so I¡¯m documenting what it did to fight back. From an immediate point of view, anything we learn here will give you¡ªour¡ªreality more of a fighting chance. We¡¯ll be able to adjust our strategies to avoid the things that failed here. Longer-term, if R-0 doesn¡¯t hold, the Halcyon System wants more information for future realities.] There¡¯s a lot to unpack there. As my boots stop sticking and I start scanning the second floor, I think about what James just said and how it changes my equations. It¡¯s a real head-scratcher, because the Halcyon System feels so omnipotent that it has to be a bad guy¡ªotherwise, wouldn¡¯t it have stopped the apocalypse from ripping across Earth? But at the same time¡­You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I¡¯ve outsmarted it. Outmaneuvered it. That makes it fallible, and if it failed against a kid, it¡¯s possible that it¡¯s memory¡¯s not as good as I think it is. Maybe it doesn¡¯t have records of other failed realities. ¡°James, you¡¯re not lying to me, right?¡± [I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve ever asked that before.] James laughs. [Thought it a lot, sure, but asked? No.] ¡°Okay.¡± The lava breaches the floor below ours, and I start climbing. ¡°That¡¯s all, James,¡± I say. [That¡¯ll be enough. I¡¯m Analyzing everything and trying to build a model.] ¡°Great.¡± I head for the elevator shaft and start climbing for the surface. It¡¯s slow going, but I¡¯m not about to try a micromerge jump with zero Stability. That¡¯d only make things worse. ¡°Where am I going?¡± He knows what I want without me asking. [Anywhere on the surface should work. Once you¡¯re there, I¡¯ll try to find a place that¡¯ll give you a window to Vancouver Island.]
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:18 PM - - - - - Director Paul Ramirez was equal parts furious and terrified. Furious because he¡¯d been outmaneuvered, and now he had to leave his headquarters building behind, along with all the experiments he¡¯d been running. He¡¯d made incredible strides in understanding different realities. If the world hadn¡¯t been facing an apocalypse the likes of which SHOCKS had never seen before, SHOCKS VVI would be the premier posting on the planet and only a little behind SHOCKS Mars/Deimos. As it was, he was leaving behind everything that wasn¡¯t in his head. That was why he was terrified. His career¡ªand possibly his life¡ªrested on getting SHOCKS Headquarters Victoria and Vancouver Island back under his control. But the only thing he could do was follow the chain of command, and Sergeant Strauss was well within his rights to order an evacuation. Only a half-dozen trucks remained; the ones with the civilians had all left, and most of the other researchers were gone, too. A few dozen agents and that L4 trooper, Daley, waited with him for the next ride out. He¡¯d taken command and made sure that both Munroe and Rodriguez were on some of the first trucks. Paul was grateful for that. ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡± he asked Daley. The trooper just shrugged. ¡°L4-5¡¯s doing something stupid. If we survive this, taking Headquarters back¡¯s gonna be a bitch and a half.¡± A series of explosions rippled through the building. This set was bigger than the ones Daley had identified as plastic explosives. They shook the open-frame roof of the garage, and dust poured down on the two men. ¡°Director, it¡¯s time for you to go,¡± someone shouted from a nearby truck. Paul nodded, but made no move to leave. He¡¯d only been the leader of SHOCKS VVI for a couple of weeks, an in that time, he¡¯d made great strides in research and in dealing with Merge Prime. Equally importantly, he¡¯d brought Claire Pendleton back into the fold, and with that, the research potential of having her in line with SHOCKS¡¯s goals for the future. He didn¡¯t want to leave it all behind. Gunfire opened up somewhere in the building. Three short bursts, a pause, then another, longer burst. Paul waited one second. Two seconds. Then another series of bursts. The only SHOCKS employees still in the building were a handful of researchers who¡¯d volunteered to ride the ship down with some of the Qishi-Danger anomalies who needed constant observation¡­and Strauss. As the gunfire continued, someone grabbed Director Ramirez and carried him to the waiting truck.
Location Unknown, Provisional Reality ARC, Time Unknown - - - - - This reality breaks and burns, but this time, it¡¯s no vision. This time, it¡¯s a ridiculously powerful anomaly that reminds me of the burning man¡ªif the burning man spanned the length of a city and was made of molten stone so hot steel melted and asphalt boiled anywhere in a mile radius around it. ¡°James, how long?¡± [Soon.] ¡°That¡¯s not a time length!¡± I say between gritted teeth. I can¡¯t do math with soon, and the math¡¯s not looking great. [Fifteen seconds. I¡¯ll tell you when.] Fifteen seconds. That¡¯s not long; I¡¯ve been waiting for the last twenty minutes. I can wait fifteen more seconds. My foot taps the steel and concrete as I swing it back and forth over the edge; I¡¯m sitting on the corner of a skyscraper¡¯s roof, watching the city burn and melt and evaporate all at the same time. There¡¯s something beautiful about it, in a way¡ªat least when it¡¯s not my city. When it¡¯s one that¡¯s already been lost. My gaze pans across the view for almost five seconds¡ªan eternity. ¡°How long?¡± [Claire, there¡¯s no way you¡¯ll hit SHOCKS Headquarters. We don¡¯t even know for sure that your upgraded Mergewalk will open its own merge,] James says. [Relax.] ¡°I can¡¯t. It will.¡± [How do you know?] I don¡¯t. But right now, I don¡¯t need the truth. I need hope that this is going to work. That I¡¯m not too late. That everything will be alright. I wish Alice was here to lie to me about that. [Time,] James says after far too long. I don¡¯t say anything. Instead, I stand and walk back toward the stairs down. One step. Two. Three. My foot goes up for the fourth, but it doesn¡¯t come down on the roof. Everything goes black¡ªthe pitch black of the void. When it stops, the world¡¯s only slightly less dark, and my Revolver¡¯s in my hand and glowing purple, the Mergebreaker shells ready to go.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:19 PM - - - - - Strauss wasn¡¯t winning this fight. He¡¯d pumped five of his six magazines into the Alice/Li Mei creature, and the best he¡¯d been able to say for himself was that he¡¯d hit most of his shots, but the monster kept coming, swirling into smoke the moment he pulled the trigger and just taking the hits. It wasn¡¯t even trying to kill him, but it had given up trying to talk. He couldn¡¯t hear a word it said anyway. The last magazine trembled in his fingers, but he lined it up and shoved it into place with a click he felt instead of hearing. His other empty magazines littered the floor behind Li Mei. The only thing they¡¯d done was slow her down a little, maybe. His plastic explosive hadn¡¯t accomplished a damn thing, either. Every single Xuduo-Danger anomaly he¡¯d freed had taken one look at the Alice/Li Mei hybrid and either fled or stayed in their open cells and waited for her to pass. She hadn¡¯t even bothered looking at them. Right now, he was tucked into an alcove where something big had once been housed. Still was housed; it kept hiss-growling at him from the dark cell, but it wouldn¡¯t come out¡ªnot even to kill him. He had no more magazines, one worthless smoke grenade, and his go-bag of gadgets was with Daley. He was out of options, and the garage sat just a few yards behind him. There were still people in there. Maybe even civilians. Strauss couldn¡¯t call for help; the best case was that Daley came out. More likely, it¡¯d be some agents, or maybe even one of the gun-toting teachers he¡¯d helped disarm during onboarding. None of them would help him right now, and he couldn¡¯t let Li Mei through. Strauss threw himself into the hall, firing a short burst toward the blonde girl. The bullets hit, but as they did, she turned to smoke that swirled and eddied in the shots¡¯ wake. It bought another couple of seconds, and he fired again as she rematerialized, forcing her to go smoke again. When she came out of it, her mouth moved. Strauss didn¡¯t try to read her lips; he could, but it¡¯d be like listening to her¡ªa mistake when he couldn¡¯t afford one. He spun and ran, retreating toward the garage door. Li Mei followed, but another spray of bullets stopped her, and Strauss went to a knee with his back foot against the steel door. She stopped, cocked a head, and watched him with her two red-black eyes. The pajamas she¡¯d been changed into after her sister returned her here were torn and hung in tatters that reminded Strauss of the ragged bandages she used to wear. Underneath was smooth pink skin¡ªcompletely unmarred by the fighting. Strauss imagined it jet-black like Li Mei¡¯s. He fired again as she moved forward like lightning. The rifle clicked on an empty magazine, and the quick-release dropped it to the floor. Strauss ditched the gun and pulled his service pistol. Five shots with one hand as his other groped for the door handle. He pulled it open and fired the other five shots. They did nothing. He hadn¡¯t expected them to. The slide clicked back, and he dropped the handgun, too. There was only one truck¡ªhalf-loaded with agents who took one look at the smoke that swirled into the room with blazing red eyes and threw themselves through the vehicle¡¯s tail door. Someone pulled it shut, and the engine revved loud enough for Strauss to feel it through the floor. The tail lights disappeared down the tunnel. Strauss let them go. They were following orders; his orders. The Alice/Li Mei thing let them go, too. She didn¡¯t even try to stop them. And she didn¡¯t go for the kill with Strauss, either. She knocked him to the floor, turned to smoke, and loomed over him like a titan. An eighteen-year-old, high-school-graduate titan. She pointed at her ears, then at Strauss. He shook his head. Even if he cleared the earplugs, he¡¯d destroyed his eardrums. Short of surgical repair, she¡¯d never be able to speak to him. He¡¯d won, anyway. The rest of SHOCKS was out and on their way to the docks. With any luck, they¡¯d get across the water to Port Angeles, and from there, up into the mountains to SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia. If it still existed. The Alice/Li Mei thing¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she launched herself at Strauss. He tried to roll out of the way but was too slow. He tried to reach for the grenade hanging from his chest but couldn¡¯t pull the pin. Li Mei surrounded him in shadow that ripped into his flesh. He couldn¡¯t hear his own screaming. Chapter Seventy-One Albert Head, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:23 PM - - - - - The wooden floorboards creak under my feet¡ªI can practically smell the unholy mix of body spray and thirty teenagers¡¯ body odor. Some of it¡¯s probably mine, and a lot of it¡¯s definitely Alice¡¯s. I don¡¯t need my eyes to know exactly where I am. West End High. The gymnasium. Alice loved it here. I never did. I¡¯ve had my eyes squeezed shut after a too-intense PE session far too often to not recognize it by smell and by echo. In fact, I don¡¯t even need to look to make it to the locker room¡ªand from there to the stairs leading up to the second-floor spectator seating. It¡¯s still nice when the lights flip on a moment later. [I have a partial connection here. This is SHOCKS Auxiliary Research Site Forty-Five¡ªWest End High. Until a couple of days ago, Director Ramirez was defending it with a squad of agents to allow research to occur, but he pulled everyone back to SHOCKS Headquarters before sending the Recovery and Stabilization Teams through the merge generator,] James says. [The research teams were trying to figure out what triggered the initial merge, then work backward until they figured out how to stop future ones. As far as I could tell, it didn¡¯t work.] James rambles on about security measures and the withdrawal, but I¡¯m only half-listening. He¡¯s just talking to talk, unlocking SHOCKS security doors and moving cameras to show that he can. He¡¯s been all but powerless for quite a while. And I¡¯m exhausted. The last day¡¯s been so much, and now that I¡¯m home and safe, I just want to¡­no, I need to sleep. I need to rest. I can¡¯t. Not yet. There¡¯s too much to do. My gaze pans across the gym, then to the double doors leading outside to the soccer field. The gym floor¡¯s covered in gizmos and computers; SHOCKS was serious about whatever they were trying to learn, and they either thought they¡¯d be coming back or didn¡¯t care how many hundreds of thousands of dollars of stuff they left behind. And they interviewed enough people to know exactly where the West End merge started. That means their research had to start at the circle where the Truth Club used to meet. I push through the door. It resists momentarily, then clicks open as James activates the digital lock. The soccer field¡¯s pretty much shredded; there are a few thinling corpses still in place, and more plastic tents that might be sterile spaces where other bodies are. Other than that, the grass has all been uprooted, and a massive mound of sifted soil sits off behind the west goal. The field¡¯s got to be a foot lower than it was¡ªmaybe more. The bleachers are gone; SHOCKS took a saw to them and dragged the parts away. There¡¯s another plastic tent over the place the Truth Club met. I head for it, then stop. ¡°James, do you have contact with SHOCKS at all?¡± [I have contact with Director Ramirez, L4-4 Daley, and a few dozen agents. L4-5 is not responding and is presumably still inside SHOCKS Headquarters, L4-1 and L4-2 are both unconscious but in vehicles, and your dad, the Landsdowne folks, and the Itos are with them. They¡¯re moving toward the cruise ship docks off James Bay.] To say that¡¯s a relief would be an understatement. Strauss is still in danger¡ªand so is Alice. She¡¯s in so much danger, and I can¡¯t help her. But everyone else is out, more or less. ¡°How many people?¡± [We¡¯ve lost contact with Lambda-Five, L4-5, and four agents. We¡¯ve also lost thirteen researchers who chose to maintain containment on three Qishi-Danger anomalies rather than retreating. It¡¯s possible that Li Mei will be more interested in escaping than in killing them.] James doesn¡¯t sound convincing; he doesn¡¯t even sound like he believes himself. ¡°I know what she¡¯s doing. Struass is dead.¡± The words are hard to say, but they¡¯re the truth. There¡¯s no way she left him alive¡ªnot when she¡¯s got everything she wishes she had with me a few weeks back. Alice is the perfect host for her right now. ¡°Can we take away Alice¡¯s clearance?¡± [Not without accessing SHOCKS¡¯s systems, and that¡¯d mean taking over SHOCKS Headquarters.] Okay. Okay. This is¡­better than I expected, actually. I expected to get dropped into a SHOCKS Headquarters that was burning to the ground, with zero resources, no Stability, and a sister/infovampire hybrid that wanted me dead. Instead, I have time to think, and the only person who¡¯s in danger and alive¡­is Alice, and she¡¯s already in as much trouble as she can possibly get into. ¡°Li Mei won¡¯t kill Alice, will she?¡± [I don¡¯t know.] I don¡¯t need to ask if that¡¯s the truth.
The Truth Club¡¯s circle looks almost exactly like it did when Sora and I met there for the last time. Every cigarette butt, every candy wrapper¡ªthey¡¯re all exactly where we left them, scattered carelessly on the ground. The dirt¡¯s still got my shoe-print in it, and the place where Sora put her coat so she wouldn¡¯t get her knees muddy. It¡¯s all the same. And then, right at the edge, it¡¯s completely different. The yellow plastic structure¡¯s being battered by a late-night rain storm. It sounds like a hundred tiny horses stampeding back and forth across the roof, and I¡¯m a little worried about water coming in under the tent¡¯s edges. SHOCKS has a whole universal reality anchor set up and running right here, along with a dozen other gizmos; I push through the Jell-O with every step, and James is cut off from me by the multi-layered Faraday Cage¡ªhe has to use a computer speaker to talk to me. Yeah, there are also a dozen running computers, but they¡¯re on the outside, and right now, I¡¯m here. At Ground Zero¡ªwhere everything started. James is checking out the computers. I¡¯m taking pictures, shooting videos, and trying my best to understand what I¡¯m seeing. There¡¯s still a merge here¡ªor at least the echo of a thinning. It¡¯s just the barest glimmer in the hard, dry mud at the circle¡¯s center, but every camera and sensor SHOCKS has is pointed right at it. ¡°James, did you know about this?¡± [I knew they were investigating the merge here,] he says through the computer monitor. Communicating without my augs is a pain in the ass, but it¡¯s the best I¡¯ve got right now. [This whole area¡¯s air-gapped and on its own network. I can only scrape its surface because you¡¯re physically here. Otherwise, it might as well all be invisible.] ¡°I don¡¯t think the first merge of Merge Prime ever closed. It¡¯s still running. They weren¡¯t just studying this; they were containing it,¡± I mutter. Next school year wouldn¡¯t have happened for the moose even without Merge Prime¡ªat least not at West End High. [I agree. What I¡¯m seeing here is interesting. There¡¯s a cascading effect going on, an exponential growth curve just like we saw with Merge Prime, but it¡¯s in pulses. Almost like this one merge¡¯s activations are lining up perfectly with almost all the other ones around R-0. In fact, SHOCKS recorded a ninety-eight point eight percent match-up, which is¡ª] ¡°Statistically highly unlikely, right?¡± I interrupt, shutting down the Faraday Cage and stepping through it before it sparks and crackles back on. [Statistically almost impossible. There are a handful of merges that can¡¯t be explained by the pulses. Most of those come from one location¡ªthe Experimental Sector. The rest are no more or less frequent than the typical number of merges and potential merges for R-0. This thing could have been a map.] It hits me then; this is the core. Whatever started Merge Prime, it happened under the bleachers at Alice¡¯s high school graduation. That alone isn¡¯t the revelation, though; it¡¯s that it kept happening¡ªand that SHOCKS knew it was happening. ¡°Had they made the connection?¡± I ask, throat suddenly dry. [Absolutely.] ¡°Then why did they leave here? Why not move their whole operation to West End?¡± [Because they couldn¡¯t do anything about it. Read this.] James pulls an article onto my optic aug. For a second, it¡¯s covered in redactions and black marks¡ªthen they all disappear. Auxiliary Research Site Forty-Five Intelligence Briefing, June 09, 2043, 10:50 PMThis novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. [Anomaly] Event - 0-G-4/U1, Merge Prime [Status] Uncontained [Type] Ongoing [Danger] Qishi [Containment] None Update: All current containment methods do is serve to hide the core components of Merge Prime from discovery. Attempts to disable the ongoing merge with a device like Sergeant Strauss has used multiple times have been denied by Command, citing unknown consequences to both the merged reality and extreme damage to our own if the device interacts in an unexpected way. Given what we believe the ongoing even is, and that we have it ¡®contained¡¯ from discovery, we agree with Command¡¯s assessment. Researcher Phillips made a breakthrough today that¡¯s both revolutionary and trivial at the same time. By timing the pulses¡¯ length and frequency, we can build a map of R-0 and uncover where realities are intersecting with it. If we could have communicated this information to other SHOCKS Areas of Control, this could have given them more of a fighting chance against Merge Prime. However, without a line of communication, this is little more than a curiosity. Researcher Phillips has been put in charge of the mapping, on the off-chance that it¡¯s useful should we regain control. Tomorrow is our last day on-site. Command has ordered us to pull back, but leave all equipment in place and running. The goal is to hide what¡¯s happening here for as long as we can, but Command believes there¡¯s a different, better way to understand what¡¯s happening and to counter it. Speaking freely, I¡¯m not so sure. We should be trying to neutralize this ongoing merge, not playing with opening new ones - Researcher Bradley The conundrum in front of me is shockingly clear, but frustratingly muddled at the same time. Researcher Bradley is right. If there¡¯s a chance of eliminating the ongoing merges and reducing the number of problems our reality is facing, setting up a Strauss bomb and detonating it is the right choice. In an equation this complicated, with more variables being added to the world by the minute, reducing complexity is the most important thing¡ªeven if we have to use brute force. If I were him, I would have done it days ago, or maybe even weeks. But Director Ramirez is right, too. There¡¯s a good chance this won¡¯t stop the ongoing merges and an equally good chance that stopping the merges does nothing to save R-0. If that¡¯s the case, the longer-term learning from recording the blips and shimmers has more value than destroying it. James knows where everything is happening because the Halcyon System¡¯s connecting to people as they bond with anomalies, and Alice and I aren¡¯t the only ones who¡¯ve done it. But if SHOCKS could react, that might change the whole fight. I watch the thinning pulse and shimmer, my ears ringing and vision blurring as a migraine builds. After a minute, I know what the answer is, but not whether I¡¯m willing to do it. I leave instead.
The window into Mrs. Helquist¡¯s room is still busted out; there¡¯s yellow tape across it, but I tear it down without a problem and climb inside. I never looked back into her room when I fled from the thinling; it¡¯s completely destroyed, with the beautiful, straight rows of desks scattered and the posters for theorems and formulae in tatters. Everything about my favorite teacher¡¯s perfectly organized space is in shambles. There¡¯s a metaphor there. Or a simile. Some sort of figurative language Mrs. Lightsen probably tried to teach me but that just bounced off my head. More importantly, there¡¯s a truth there. A little fragment of the nature of reality¡ªthat there¡¯s always going to be entropy, and that things will always fall apart. It¡¯s not enough to be a Truth or solve any of my Inquiries, but there¡¯s something there. I¡¯m less curious about metaphors and more concerned with the girl¡¯s bathroom, though. SHOCKS knows I was there, and they know that¡¯s where I got the Revolver. It¡¯s where James made contact with me for the first time. I head down the hall. The Revolver¡¯s out, but there¡¯s nothing to shoot. What I should be doing is leaving West End High and running. If I sprint all-out and my Endurance doesn¡¯t fail me, I can be in James Bay in an hour or two. Maybe that won¡¯t be too late to make a difference. But that? That is a lie. I¡¯m lying to myself, pretending I can change something that already happened. There¡¯s no time loop anomaly, and even if there was, I don¡¯t have access to it right now, so all I can do is try to make sure that things don¡¯t get worse. Besides¡­ [Claire, I¡¯ve made contact with Director Ramirez. He says they¡¯re heading for the cruise ship piers.] ¡°You already told me that,¡± I say. [Yes, but they¡¯re heading toward SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia. I lost contact with them after every facility went air-gapped, and no one inside bonded with an anomaly, so I haven¡¯t been able to check in on them. This is an opportunity for us to make contact and get some extra help. Our list of allies is getting pretty depleted.] James is right. I should be heading for the port¡ªespecially if they¡¯ve got a way off this island. The bathroom¡¯s right there, though. And I¡¯ve got a hunch. ¡°We¡¯ll catch up to them,¡± I say confidently. More confidently than I feel, and way more confidently than I have any right to. ¡°As long as Dad and Sora are safe, I don¡¯t want to deal with SHOCKS right now.¡± [Understood. I¡¯ll be able to do everything I want to through Director Ramirez¡¯s augs, anyway.] James goes silent as I step into the bathroom.
I¡¯m not sure what I expected. Glowing lights. A shimmering under the bathroom stall. The ringing in my ears just like last time. Anything like that. But no. It¡¯s just the fucking girl¡¯s bathroom. The same graffiti on the stalls, the same lipstick stain on the mirror that¡¯s shattered on the floor now, the same stupid signs about cleaning up after yourself and throwing away your pads instead of flushing them so the toilets don¡¯t clog again. If it weren¡¯t for the camera that¡¯s running facing the stall my Revolver showed up in, I¡¯d think school was still in session. I knock the camera down. James starts to say something about how much it cost, but I ignore him. Instead, I jerk the door open. It¡¯s empty. There¡¯s no shimmering portal, no flashing point in space. There¡¯s nothing to suggest that my Revolver came from here¡ªjust a hand-written note about how Candice is a bitch. That gets a quick smile. She kind of is one. Then I¡¯m moving again. I head back outside; I don¡¯t need to see the shelter or the counselors¡¯ office. It¡¯ll just be cameras, sensors, and maybe a reality anchor or two. I¡¯ve already learned what I need to; the math¡¯s coming together. I was at ground zero, and everything echoed out from here. That makes West End critically important to SHOCKS. But it doesn¡¯t matter to me. I¡¯m so goddamn tired. The stall door swings shut behind me as I leave, heading for the nurse¡¯s room. There¡¯s a bed there, and I didn¡¯t ever go there when I fled through the building, dragging Keith with me. SHOCKS shouldn¡¯t have any interest in it, and I know the door locks from the inside¡ªelectronically. That means I¡¯ll be at least a little secure. The weight of everything presses down on me. I¡¯ve got a next move¡ªJames told me what it was¡ªbut first, I need to get across the ocean. And I¡¯m not going to make it as tired as I am. By the time my hand wraps around the door handle and I let James unlock it, I¡¯m almost asleep just walking. ¡°James, what¡¯s Dad¡¯s status?¡± I ask I don¡¯t hear his reply; I¡¯m already asleep the moment I hit the rubber-and-plastic, vomit-proof bed.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 16, 2043, 11:36 PM - - - - - Li Mei ignored the monstrous obsidian statue that stared at her from the containment cell. Instead, she focused on turning the last researcher¡ªshe hoped¡ªinto so much slurry, just like the plants the Stag Lord had tried to fight her with. She¡¯d been thorough; every Qishi-Danger anomaly¡¯s containment needed checking, and every one she could release without putting herself in danger needed to be freed and chased away. She would have no competition to her rule over this place. None of the other anomalies could make anything of it anyway. They¡¯d only destroy it or corrupt it, while she could benefit from the prize she¡¯d found. But she¡¯d have to be careful. The JAMES Unit was everywhere. If she powered the facility back on, it¡¯d start purging records or try to trigger the self-destruct, and she couldn¡¯t allow either of those things. Cutting the building off from the outside world could take hours¡ªor even days. But Li Mei wasn¡¯t in a hurry. She was hungry, but thanks to her kills, she wasn¡¯t starving anymore. She drove the Alice body back to her room and turned to smoke. As she drifted through the vents and landed on her bed, she closed her burning red eyes. The first step was waiting for the others to clear out. Then came checking for stragglers and turning the power back on. After that, she¡¯d be ready to feed.
The Mindscape - - - - - You wake up. It always starts that way; with you waking up in your Mindscape. But this time, something is different. Your garden is ruined. Nothing is the same; nothing is the way it should be. The gate¡¯s hanging wide open. There are children¡¯s toys everywhere: a bright red tricycle, plastic digging tools, and jump ropes¡ªso many jump ropes. They¡¯re scattered and tossed about like something tore into the toy boxes you didn¡¯t realize you had. The cottage¡¯s door¡¯s hanging wide open, and as you look at the shattered window, you can¡¯t help but wince. {Mademoiselle, je m¡¯excuse. I tried to stop her. However, she was like a storm crashing over the jetties. Once she came in, there was no reasoning with her. Only one thing calmed her down.} You want to know who, but Madame Baudelaire only apologizes profusely when you ask. Her whole being is shaken¡ªno, offended¡ªby what¡¯s happening. The only thing you get from her is that the interloper is inside. You rush for the door. It¡¯s not just hanging wide open; it¡¯s off its hinges, and when you push it out of the way, it creaks and thuds to the stone path. A pair of socked feet hang from your chair, and a pair of wide, blue eyes peer at you over the oversized Dr. Seuss book that two hands hold like a shield. Then Alice¡ªthe real Alice, not one of her masks¡ªcaroms off the chair, slips on one of the dozens of books covering the floor, and gets tangled in the plush blanket she¡¯s got wrapped around her legs. She ignores the impact and scrambles back to her feet, then hits you in the stomach like a missile, head first. Her arms wrap around you in a gigantic hug. {I knew you would not want her freezing outside, so I let her in. She destroyed everything, and I could not stop her until she reached the library. A thousand apologies,} Madame Baudelaire says. You ignore her. You ignore the destruction¡ªthe torn, dog-eared pages and broken window, and even the soccer ball that¡¯s half-deflated and punctured with glass shards in the corner. None of that matters. What matters is that Alice is alive, and Li Mei didn¡¯t kill her¡ªat least, not all of her. After an eternity that lasts the blink of an eye, Alice pulls back, and for the first time, a voice that¡¯s not Madame Baudelaire¡¯s echoes through your Mindscape. ¡°Nice wings, Claire.¡± Chapter Seventy-Two I want to fly like an eagle, Let my spirit carry me¡± - The Steve Miller Band ¡°¡¯Cause I¡¯m free as a bird now, And this bird you cannot change¡± - Lynyrd Skynyrd ¡°I wanna free fall out into nothin¡¯ Oh, I¡¯m gonna leave this, this world for a while¡± - Tom Petty ¡°Do they do anything useful?¡± - Alice Pendleton ¡°No. Maybe. I don¡¯t know.¡± - Claire Pendleton
The Mindscape - - - - - Your sister isn¡¯t okay. After the fourth story you¡¯ve read her¡ªand after Madame Baudelaire¡¯s gotten around to cleaning up the cottage and re-shelving the books¡ªAlice is finally ready to tell you what happened to her. What happened with Li Mei. It has to do with her bond. Your connection to the Revolver is purely beneficial. It doesn¡¯t have wants or desires, so its purpose aligns with whatever you¡¯re trying to accomplish. It doesn¡¯t have a sense of self, only whatever task you give it, and its growth comes in terms of specialized cylinders of bullets. It¡¯s a positive relationship: you get a weapon, and the Revolver gets used. Alice¡¯s bond with Li Mei is different. Li Mei has wants and needs and desires, and being trapped in Alice wasn¡¯t working toward those goals. She struggled just as much as your sister did. And just like Alice¡¯s Infohazard Resistance went through the roof, so did Li Mei¡¯s ability to fight against it. She didn¡¯t grow as fast as Alice¡ªno one¡¯s as determined as your sister¡ªbut all it took was one moment of weakness. James accidentally provided it when the LSD-inspired compound shredded Alice¡¯s Infohazard Resistance, and the moment Li Mei realized it, she took over and killed every mask your sister ever wore. It was only through luck that she escaped to your Mindscape¡ªluck, and the fact that she remembered the way. It¡¯s not his fault; she doesn¡¯t blame him. But it still happened. After Alice tells you that, you don¡¯t want to read anymore. Your stomach roils like the sea during a storm. She wants to know about your wings because, according to her, you look like an angel. Madame Baudelaire provides a mirror, and you see them for the first time. They hover behind your shoulders, not quite touching your hoodie, like a dozen wedge-shaped shards of purple-black nothingness. Like a mirror to some other reality shattered behind you. You can¡¯t do anything with them; they move a little when you flex your shoulders back and forth, but they¡¯re not for flight. You can¡¯t make them go away, either. They¡¯re like Alice¡¯s miscolored eyes. You¡¯re not sure what they¡¯re for, but you know why you have them; you¡¯ve bonded with the Voiceless Singer, and this is how that bond¡¯s manifesting. They¡¯re not a weapon. They¡¯re not even a tool. They¡¯re just¡­there. Two perfect wings of nothing, purple and black like the void itself. Alice wants to know what you¡¯ll do next. There¡¯s only one thing to do, though. Your friends and family are as safe as they can be right now¡ªaccording to James, they¡¯re getting ready to cross the Salish Sea and make landfall in Port Angeles. But Strauss is dead, and Li Mei is free¡ªand in Alice¡¯s body. Your plan was to regroup with your friends and family, but if Alice is still alive, and there¡¯s a chance of returning her to her body¡ªor even of killing Li Mei¡ªyou need to take that opportunity. Your plan has to change.
Albert Head, Victoria, British Columbia - June 17, 2043, 6:13 AM - - - - - I wake up. The nurse¡¯s room¡¯s pitch black; it takes a second to get my aug running in night-vision mode. Once I¡¯m up, I take stock of myself and my gear; I¡¯ve still got my hoodie, my leggings, and a pair of combat boots, plus the Revolver and a nearly-empty backpack with a few of Strauss¡¯s claymore mines in it. My eyes don¡¯t match¡ªthey¡¯re a little like Li Mei¡¯s, but not as bad as the nightmarish ones I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about last night, and the wings are still there, still useless, and still gorgeous. The Revolver¡¯s loaded with Mergebreakers. I¡¯m ready to go. Alice and I had a long talk last night. She approves of what¡¯s about to happen. Li Mei has to be stopped, and right now, she¡¯s almost certainly the Acting Director for SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria and Vancouver Island. If stopping her helps save the world, Alice understands. Even if it means her body gets destroyed. I¡¯m not ready to let that happen, though. ¡°James, I need everything you have on infovampires, infohazards in general, and Li Mei specifically.¡± [Okay,] he says. ¡°And everything SHOCKS has on bonds.¡± I¡¯m heading for the soccer field. [Anything else?] I stop in my tracks, thinking. [I¡¯m not serious, Claire. There¡¯s no way you¡¯ll be able to handle that much information between now and an hour or so.] ¡°Fine.¡± I step onto the soccer field, Revolver in my hand. The yellow plastic tent¡¯s door parts easily, and inside, the flickering, shimmering eternal thinning sits. My ears ring, and my whole head feels like it¡¯s trying to shake off my neck, but I steady the Revolver. Then I put a half-dozen Mergebreaker rounds into it. For a second, nothing happens. Two seconds. Five. I¡¯m starting to wonder if these bullets are duds. Then, out of nowhere, it¡¯s gone. The ringing and shaking stop. The tent explodes outward in every direction, torn to shreds by the force of the heatless explosion as the thinning disappears. I¡¯m deafened and knocked to the ground, where I roll in the churned mud next to the soccer field. The Truth Club¡¯s circle is obliterated. James is already dumping articles into my augment even as I recover and push myself to my feet. The sticky mud covers my whole back from mid-thigh to my shoulder blades, but I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯ve accomplished. I just know it¡¯s something, and it¡¯s probably a blow to Merge Prime. Hopefully, at least. It feels small, inconsequential. According to James, merges are still opening up around the world at the same rate they were before. This isn¡¯t a major victory for SHOCKS or our Reality. It¡¯s just a personal one. I start walking, then jogging north up the coast. Then I have an idea. I cut northeast, across the breakwater blocking the old, abandoned bird sanctuary at Esquimalt Lagoon off from the Salish Sea. When I finally get close enough to take the shot and micromerge jump across the bay and into Esquimalt, I¡¯ve saved at least forty-five minutes of travel time. And I¡¯ve landed next to something that gives me a terrible idea. ¡°James, I need one more thing¡­¡± [No. Absolutely not. Do you even know how to ride a bike?] ¡°Yes. In theory. Just help me get it started.¡±
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 17, 2043, 7:22 AM - - - - - Li Mei had been up all night. Every computer had to be unplugged, every router disconnected from its power source. She¡¯d melted down the cables leading out to Victoria¡¯s fiber-optic network and even cut the phone line wires in case something was running on dial-up. She wouldn¡¯t put it past SHOCKS to have a redundant, ancient system like that. Probably to deal with a specific anomaly or something¡ªor as a contingency in case they ran into one.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The Alice body was exhausted, and even Li Mei couldn¡¯t keep it running much longer without rest and fuel, but she was determined to push things just a little longer. Just long enough to power the SHOCKS Headquarters grid back up. Her body would never have gotten this tired this quickly. She was down in the maintenance level, standing next to the generators. All she had to do was manually start them up, and the SHOCKS facility would roar back to life¡ªwith her at the helm. It was everything she¡¯d ever wanted¡ªeverything she¡¯d dreamed about. An infinite supply of knowledge, and it was all hers. She¡¯d kill for this. She had killed for this, a dozen researchers and that trooper. And she¡¯d happily do it again. Li Mei fired up the generators and vanished into a cloud of smoke. A minute later, she sat in the Director¡¯s office, in his comfortable chair, watching the local network connections turn on all around her. The Alice body screamed for rest and food. Li Mei was too excited to give it anything but contempt. She¡¯d starved for too long to care about this body¡¯s tiny bit of discomfort. The cameras flashed on. A roar filled the Director¡¯s office, and Li Mei flinched in spite of herself as something bright red rocketed into the garage through a twisted, broken door. She caught a glimpse of a red-and-black eye looking back at her through the camera lens as the motorcycle skidded out of control and smashed into the far wall at full speed, just off-camera. Was her bestie trying to kill herself!? It¡¯d make Li Mei¡¯s life easier. More importantly, how was she here? She¡¯d been stuck in another reality, and Li Mei had made triple-sure that the merge generator¡¯s anomalies were all disconnected and scattered to the corners of the building before she¡¯d turned the power back on. Claire shouldn¡¯t be here. And yet, here she was. Li Mei whirled and stormed down the hall, heading for the garage. Claire had to be shaken from that impact, at the very least. More likely, she¡¯d broken a leg. Li Mei would¡ª The cameras shut down, and the security doors all along the hall slammed shut and locked with a click. An electrical tingling filled the air. And Li Mei realized her mistake. Claire wasn¡¯t the real problem. She¡¯d brought something much worse with her. James was back in the system.
A few things go through my mind as I rocket toward the wall on the far side of the SHOCKS garage. One: I¡¯m going to kill Li Mei. Two: If I don¡¯t kill myself on accident first. Three: James needs a computer terminal. I almost wrecked the motorcycle that James helped me hotwire a dozen times between my landing spot and here, and there wasn¡¯t any traffic to deal with. Even with his help, this was a bad idea. The candy-red racing bike slides across the floor wheels-first, kicking up sparks as the handle and sides scrape the concrete down to the rebar. I leap free just before impact, leggings already torn and skin shredded below the knee. It doesn¡¯t matter; I barely even notice. Before the bike finishes revving and spinning against the wall, I¡¯m already up. That bitch of a best friend is in here somewhere. [Connection, now!] James says. I nod, looking around, and grab the drive from my hoodie pocket. There¡¯s a computer nearby; I don¡¯t bother logging in. I might be the Acting Director of this facility, or Li Mei might still be¡ªI don¡¯t know how this situation works¡ªbut James only needs the tiniest crack in the door. The flash drive goes in, and the computer screen goes black a moment later. [I¡¯m taking over all security systems. Shutting doors, looping cameras, pulling true feeds into my processing loops. Analyzing. Analysis complete. Picture of Li Mei established.] ¡°And?¡± I¡¯m having a hard time focusing on what James is saying. There¡¯s a body on the floor. It¡¯s not covered. It¡¯s Strauss; his ears are full of white stuff, but blood¡¯s worked its way through the foamy goop to drip down his face. I¡¯m trying to piece together what happened: tire marks from a burn-out leading to the garage door, the hole in it, and Strauss¡¯s corpse. A last stand, maybe? Li Mei might¡¯ve been my bestie, but she hid every body she made; this is the first time I¡¯ve seen one of her kills. [I¡¯d recommend leaving,] James says dryly. My focus snaps back. I don¡¯t have time to focus on Strauss. I¡¯m here for Li Mei. I¡¯m here to kill her, but¡­ ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because, bestie, I hate you.¡± Li Mei pools under the door in a wave of smoke and solidifies into¡­into Alice¡¯s body. It¡¯s not even the infovampire¡¯s voice; everything about her is Alice except the eyes. I raise the Revolver. My finger tightens on the trigger. But I hesitate. And just like that, Li Mei surges toward me, and the fight is on. Slither out of range. Two gravity shells. Li Mei ducks the first and turns to smoke; she swirls around the singularity for a second before reforming a few feet from me. I¡¯m switching cylinders to reality skippers. She rushes me, her teeth jet-black like her skin should be, but it¡¯s Alice, not Li Mei. Bullet Time. Three shots, center of mass, just like Strauss tried to teach me. She¡¯s Alice, but she¡¯s Li Mei, and she needs to die. They miss. Or, more accurately, Li Mei isn¡¯t there when the bullets hit. ¡°Why did you come back?¡± The infovampire¡¯s question¡¯s like a slap to the face, but I ride it out; I¡¯m not as strong as Alice¡ªnot against infohazards¡ªbut I¡¯m strong enough to handle Li Mei. I hope. I hurdle through the door as James opens it. Li Mei tries to follow, but before she can, he slams it shut. ¡°James, strategy?¡± [I don¡¯t have one. She won¡¯t fall for tricks like the tank again; if you try that, she¡¯ll play it safe instead of aggressive.] ¡°Why?¡± [Because she¡¯s afraid of you.] I don¡¯t have time to parse that. Li Mei forms in the hall, and I¡¯m shooting again, then stepping back through doors that slam shut as my bestie reaches them. James has complete control of the facility, and he¡¯s going to be the difference between¡ª A hulking monstrosity erupts from a nearby containment cell, and I turn my Revolver onto it. The flame lances hit it with the power of the sun, but it barely flinches, roaring in irritation as much as pain. Then Li Mei arrives, and it shrinks back. My Revolver fires two more times as it retreats, but these are aimed at Li Mei, not the monster. It¡¯s not a threat¡ªnot yet, at least. She goes smoke¡ªshe¡¯s spent more time as smoke than not¡ªand the monster¡¯s four spiderlike arms melt off at the first joint as she swirls through them. This time, the roar is pure agony. I take the opportunity to Smoke Form and Slither through a wall and into the offices. [Stability 7/10] There are more corpses here¡ªthese are all of researchers, and I don¡¯t recognize any of them. Their badges are blank, without a name, rank, or even a picture on them. So are their faces. There¡¯s no horror here, no fear. Just emptiness. I ready the Revolver and wait for Li Mei to reengage. I wait five seconds, then ten. But she doesn¡¯t appear, and the Revolver¡¯s weight presses on my wrists. I lower the gun. ¡°Where is she?¡± [She¡¯s miss¡ªno, got her. Director¡¯s office.] I take a deep breath, whirl toward the door behind me, and launch myself toward it. When I crash through it, Li Mei¡¯s sitting in the Director¡¯s chair, typing furiously on the computer. Her eyes are down, looking at the bottom of the screen, and the Revolver lowers before I know what¡¯s going on. She looks like Alice mid-essay, right down to the stuck-out tongue. If I hadn¡¯t seen my sister and talked to her a couple of hours ago, I wouldn¡¯t believe this wasn¡¯t her. But before I can close the gap or raise the Revolver, Alice/Li Mei¡¯s hand goes shadow, and she holds it up to her own throat. ¡°Stay there, bestie, or I¡¯ll kill her.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± The Revolver stays pointed down toward the floor. Li Mei doesn¡¯t know what I know¡ªnot yet¡ªand I want to keep it that way. ¡°Why were you shooting to kill your sister, anyway?¡± Li Mei asks. This time, the question¡¯s manageable. I could ignore it if I wanted to. I answer anyway. ¡°Better she dies than you take over.¡± The math checks out on that, but I¡¯ve run the numbers a dozen times, just to be sure. And more importantly, she won¡¯t die¡ªnot really. It¡¯s the best kind of lie¡ªa truth. ¡°Then why did you stop now?¡± Before I can answer, James interrupts. [She¡¯s still got Acting Director privileges, but I¡¯m countering her orders before she finishes making them. She¡¯s unplugged the building¡¯s active defenses from the rest of the network, though. I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re online or down. Be careful.] I nod. Then I start firing. The first flame lance cuts through the computer, melting the case and frying it instantly. Li Mei howls in rage, flips the desk, and rushes me. I fire again, then Bullet Time, put three more around her to bracket her in, and Slither when time starts again. In the moment before my flame shot goes through her smoke form, she flickers black. Li Mei¡¯s physically taking over the body. There¡¯s not much time. I stagger out of the Slither, and Li Mei rushes me again. This time, she¡¯s still smoke, and her shadowy form surges around me and envelopes my body. The familiar force of someone ripping into my mind and looking for weapons crushes down on me. I push back. [Stability 5/10] We grapple like that for a while, the Revolver pumping pointless shots into Li Mei¡¯s smokey body as she tears at my Infohazard Resistance. But something¡¯s wrong. [Stability 3/10] She¡¯s winning. ¡°James¡­options?¡± I choke the words out through shaking, clenched teeth. [Analyzing. Overlaying Simulation.] The red dots of your opponent swarm over you¡ªinside you. You Slither/Smoke Form/switch cylinders/push back/[something else]. The simulation is incomplete. Unfinished. I squeeze my eyes shut against the red glow of a thousand scarlet dots and lines, then Slither/Smoke Form. The dots travel with me, though, and I find myself in the same mess. My optic aug should be burning from the simulation, but it¡¯s running cool as a cucumber¡ªcooler than my flatlining heart. [Resetting Simulation.] This time, I try something different. I switch to gravity shells and empty the Revolver. The end result is the same: Li Mei rips my mind to pieces. The same thing happens when I try to push back. I¡¯m running out of time and options. All the different shells have a similar outcome, and so does Soundbreaking. I don¡¯t have anything in the tank for this¡ªAbsolution¡¯s down, and Determination won¡¯t help me. I keep fighting and trying different things, but Li Mei¡¯s grip on me is like iron. I can¡¯t shake her¡ªI can¡¯t even shake her simulation. I can¡¯t shake her. But the thought hits me: I can embrace her. She¡¯s looking for the truth, just like I am. The next time James resets the simulation, I try the gravity rounds again. I¡¯m still not sure what I need to do, but I¡¯m starting to put together a picture of it. It¡¯s a long shot, but it¡¯s something. I add a new Inquiry to the list before the simulation ends. ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What truth does Li Mei need to hide? There¡¯s something there. It¡¯s not a question of what was happening at West or what the Halcyon System is¡ªnothing so grand. But there¡¯s a fundamental rightness to the question. It seems correct, like it¡¯s not just seeking a truth, but a Truth, the kind that really gets down to the core of a problem. I take a deep breath as the simulation ticks back over, and this time, as the whirling storm of blood-red dots and lines made of light rip into me, I use Truthseeker. The fake Li Mei screams in rage as my defense stops and my consciousness plummets into the inky black well that is hers. A moment later, so does the real Li Mei. Chapter Seventy-Three My perfect, stupid sister. My protector and caregiver. My idol. And now, my responsibility in every way. We¡¯ve come a long way from waking her up in the morning. And we¡¯re not done yet¡ªnot until this problem is solved. She was always what¡ªwho¡ªshe needed to be for everyone else. This is my chance to return the favor. I¡¯m going to make this right, and that¡¯s the truth.
Hong Kong Walled City, People¡¯s Republic of China - January 12, 2013, 9:15 PM - - - - - I feel dirty¡ªlike I¡¯m violating something Li Mei desperately wants to protect. But also, I don¡¯t care. She¡¯s in my sister¡¯s body. She¡¯s kicked my sister out of her body. So being polite or giving her her space doesn¡¯t apply to her, and there are no rules. Only winning. The only other time I¡¯ve been this close to someone¡¯s Truth was in the God in the Machine¡¯s memory; that time, he¡¯d been forcing me to see them to break me. That didn¡¯t work then, and I¡¯m stronger now. This time, Li Mei doesn¡¯t want me there. Neither of them do. One Li Mei is in Alice¡¯s body, still wearing tattered, shredded pajamas. They hang loose in the rainy night, but the water goes right through her¡ªand through me. Our clothes stay dry. She¡¯s standing with me, and I can tell she wants nothing more than to rip me apart, but she can¡¯t. Not here, at least. The other¡¯s dressed for a deep winter. It¡¯s warm here¡ªnot uncomfortably hot, but hot enough that the bulky jacket, gloves, and hood all look out of place. She¡¯s riding on the back of a motorcycle; compared to the one I just ¡®rode,¡¯ it¡¯s underpowered. The reason for her outfit is immediately obvious. She¡¯s got her arms wrapped around a man¡¯s waist, and he¡¯s speeding through the crowded streets like all hell¡¯s about to break loose behind him. If she wasn¡¯t covered up, she¡¯d probably kill him. The signs on the streets and businesses are blank¡ªall of them. ¡°How are you in here, bestie?¡± Li Mei asks. ¡°Why do I need to leave?¡± the other Li Mei shouts over the revving engine. I ignore her. The man doesn¡¯t. ¡°You know exactly why. The suited men are closing in on you. They¡¯ve almost solved the maze, and when they do, they¡¯ll put a bag over your head and shove you into an airplane. You¡¯ll live your life in a box.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve lived my life in a box already, and aren¡¯t you doing the same thing?¡± the other Li Mei asks. Her cheeks shine with tears in the evening¡¯s neon light. Or maybe it¡¯s rain. ¡°This is different. It¡¯s necessary. You¡¯ve had twenty good years here, but you need to move on. I¡¯ve got a ticket for Rio De Janeiro. You go there. You make a new life for yourself. And be careful this time.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not coming with me?¡± The other Li Mei¡¯s voice wavers. ¡°You¡¯re abandoning me?¡± The motorcycle roars for a minute, and there¡¯s no other sound save the rain falling on the narrow street and an occasional horn honking as a vehicle tries to move. Then he says, ¡°This is what¡¯s best for us all. We¡ªI¡ªwill meet you there as soon as I can.¡± That¡¯s a lie. Li Mei knows it now, but the other Li Mei wants to believe it. She wants to believe it more than she¡¯s believed anything. She clings to the man, and they ride for what feels like forever¡ªuntil the towering slums give way to a single wide road. Then they ride some more. The bike stops outside the airport, and the other Li Mei gets off. She wraps the man in a hug that lasts far too long. The Li Mei in Alice¡¯s body looks away, staring back at the crowded streets. I¡¯ve seen that look. She¡¯s refusing to watch. When the other Li Mei disappears into the airport, the man on the bike sits there. And sits there. It takes almost ten minutes for someone to realize he¡¯s not breathing anymore.
Changi Airport, Singapore - January 14, 2013, 11:58 AM - - - - - She didn¡¯t get on the plane to Rio. Instead, she flew to Singapore. She¡¯s been here for two days, and in that time, the Changi Airport has gone from a wonder to decidedly mundane. Even a stunning paradise like this gets boring, and that¡¯s the truth. The other Li Mei¡¯s been busy, though. Screens all over the building aren¡¯t working anymore, and just an hour ago, the police cordoned off a men¡¯s restroom. I think she killed someone, but the Li Mei I know went absolutely ballistic when I tried to find out. It was like investigating a brick wall that hissed and spat like a cat. The point is that the other Li Mei isn¡¯t following the plan. She¡¯s also not trying to be subtle. And she¡¯s boarding a plane heading back to Hong Kong. ¡°What were you thinking?¡± I ask out loud, not expecting a response. But I get one. ¡°I wasn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t mean to kill him¡ªI loved him. But he was dead all the same. I knew it before I let him go and disappeared into the airport. The cult wouldn¡¯t have minded. He wasn¡¯t the first person I killed on accident. But he was the last.¡±
Hong Kong Walled City, People¡¯s Republic of China - January 17, 2013, 7:12 AM - - - - - The bogeymen are out in force. They¡¯re tearing apart the city, searching for Li Mei, and they¡¯ve given up being subtle. Guns out, warning shots fired, shouted orders and handcuffs¡ªthis feels more like a military operation than a shadow agency trying to keep from being noticed. There are even tanks. A dozen of them that I¡¯ve seen. They¡¯re blocking the roads, engines idling and turrets trained on the narrow streets as if daring someone to try them. The other Li Mei¡ªthe one from the past¡ªis already past them. She¡¯s watching from a safe distance away. So are we. Li Mei clears her throat. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be telling you any of this.¡± ¡°Yes, you should,¡± I say. She snorts. ¡°No, bestie, I shouldn¡¯t. This is the moment, right here. The cult wasn¡¯t happy to see me back. They thought I¡¯d disappeared to somewhere safe, and Jun¡¯s death had meant something. SHOCKS Beijing was waiting for me, though. This was only hours after I landed. Someone betrayed me. Someone always betrays me.¡± I keep quiet. My hand reaches for the Revolver that¡¯s not there in this memory. ¡°That¡¯s my problem. I¡¯m too trusting,¡± Li Mei says. She stares at the tanks as they slowly roll down the street while men and women in black body armor drag people out of the ramshackle buildings. I¡¯m glad I can¡¯t smell this place; the basic living buildings are already a lot of people close together, but this? This is too much. ¡°I wanted to believe that SHOCKS would take care of me after they caught me flying into Vancouver. They said they would, and they did for thirty years. It wasn¡¯t luxury, but it was comfortable. Once I made myself useful, I had more freedom than I ever had in Hong Kong¡ªor in the airport in Singapore. But then you showed up.¡± Her vitriol hits me like a club.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°You were supposed to be my bestie! I could tell. That¡¯s what I wanted¡ªa friend. I hadn¡¯t had a friend in such a long time. And after you betrayed me, your sister could have been that friend. Instead, she put me in a box. I¡¯ve spent every moment I¡¯ve been alive with people trying to put me in a box, and whenever I trust someone, they¡¯ve got a new one waiting!¡± I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But there¡¯s a kernel of Truth¡ªthe capitalized kind, the kind I¡¯ve been seeking¡ªin what she¡¯s saying, and I don¡¯t think she hears it. She¡¯s spent her whole life being put in a box. By people she trusts. Where did it start? I mull that over as we watch the tanks roll. The other Li Mei heads across the bridge toward the airport. I already know what¡¯s about to happen; she¡¯ll get on a plane, and SHOCKS will be waiting for her on the other side. Li Mei¡¯s told me, and it¡¯s inevitable. The box, though. That¡¯s the answer. If I can find the right box, I can put Li Mei in it, and Alice will be free. Sort of.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 17, 2043, 7:34 AM - - - - - Li Mei screams. It¡¯s not a scream of rage. It¡¯s pure agony. I¡¯ve hurt her¡ªand hurt her badly. More importantly, I know she¡¯s got a weakness. The right box. It¡¯s gotta be a big one, though. And it¡¯s gotta be strong. She disappears in a cloud of smoke, and I get ready for another attack. It doesn¡¯t happen. She doesn¡¯t try to swarm me again. I¡¯m alone in the Director¡¯s office. Except for James. [Claire, she¡¯s heading for the basement. Two possible reasons. First, she¡¯s going to kill the power again. If she does that, I won¡¯t be able to help you. I¡¯m trying to block her progress¡ªrunning fans and closing doors¡ªbut short of tricking her into a Qishi-Danger cell that¡¯s cut off from the outside completely, she¡¯s going to get there before you.] ¡°And the other reason?¡± I head for the door; the Director¡¯s computer is slag now, and there¡¯s nothing I could possibly get from it anyway. [The on-side self-destruct. She may try to activate it and time her Smoke Form to survive the explosion. I¡¯m not sure she can. But¡­I¡¯m also not sure she can¡¯t. I¡¯m locking down the room and disabling remote detonation.] That¡¯s not a box. That¡¯s the end of all boxes for her. I don¡¯t have the math for it, but I know SHOCKS Victoria and Vancouver Island¡¯s the best chance for containing her. And I know how to get Alice to safety after we get Li Mei into her box. It won¡¯t be control of her body¡ªnot yet¡ªbut at least it¡¯ll be safe for us to figure something out. Right now, that¡¯s the best I can do. But if the building explodes, Alice¡¯s body¡¯s gone forever¡ªeven if it still exists. I need SHOCKS Headquarters intact. More importantly, I need James¡¯s tank intact¡ªbut not to put Li Mei in again. This time, it¡¯s for Alice. The infovampire has a head start. She knows the building. But I¡¯ve got James, and he is the building. I dive down an elevator shaft the moment the elevator itself passes, heading up. Smoke Form and Slither punches me through a door at the bottom, and I¡¯m in the maintenance hallways. I¡¯ve never been down this low; nothing interesting happens down here, and I was too busy. [Left, then right. She¡¯s heading for the power¡ªI just saw her for a second.] With James¡¯s guidance, the hallway¡¯s almost familiar. Doors flash by: closets, custodial rooms, and a furnace the size of the soccer field at West End High. I ignore them, even as James helpfully labels them in my aug. Even the one he labels ¡®Nuclear Failsafe¡¯ doesn¡¯t matter yet, but I remember where it is, just in case¡ª [She¡¯s killing the power,] James says. [I¡¯m unlocking all doors so you can move. I¡¯ll do what I can, but the whole building¡¯s shiel¡ª] His voice cuts off as I reach the generator room. So does the power, but I¡¯ve got my night vision running. The door crashes open as my foot slams into the bolt and tears it free from the wall. The Revolver¡¯s up. The room¡¯s pitch black; I manually cycle through different settings until I start seeing more than just the hulking, silent generators. She¡¯s in here. Li Mei might not have heat, but Alice does. She springs out of the background yellows as a girl-shaped orange and red. I¡¯ve got three reality skippers, a Bullet Time, and another three in the air before she even knows I see her. Something hits in the moment before she turns to smoke. Warm blood hits the cool floor, the dots burning yellow-orange. I¡¯ve shot Alice. No. I¡¯ve shot Li Mei. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 21] Destroying Alice¡¯s body is an acceptable outcome if I also kill the infovampire. But it¡¯s not the one I want. She screams. It¡¯s rage as much as pain. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you dead?¡± she howls as she lunges my way. ¡°No one¡¯s looked inside my mind and lived before!¡± I don¡¯t have an answer. All I have is the Revolver and Soundbreak. The wave of sound slams into her body and throws it aside in a perfect harmony with her howl of anger. I reload the gravity shells and fire them in a wall between Li Mei and the door, sealing us both in for a few seconds. Li Mei ripples toward me, a wall of shadow smoke. I use my own Smoke Form, and she drifts through me. We both form again. I reload and duck behind one of the generators. It idles, not quite fully dead yet but unable to keep up with SHOCKS Headquarters¡¯ massive power needs. Then I pop up and start shooting. Seven shots, evenly spaced. Fire covers the room. It sparks off the walls and ignites the petroleum pipes feeding the massive machines. Everything explodes. The sound hits first. I Smoke Form again to try to dodge it, then Slither through it. It¡¯s like a tsunami roaring at my ears. The roaring boom echoes off the walls, back and forth, and I have to Soundbreak to punch a gap through it. Li Mei¡¯s out in the storm, but she¡¯s still smoke; Alice¡¯s body isn¡¯t getting pummeled like I am. Then the heat fills the room¡ªthe kind of heat you can smell, like brimstone and oil and hatred. It feels like the burning man or the magma anomaly that, even now, is probably consuming Provisional Reality ARC. My hoodie smolders as sparks hit it, and I have to beat the flames out. The generator room burns for a few seconds before it sucks the air out of the hallway, out of the whole maintenance sector¡ªout of my lungs. I try to scream, but there¡¯s nothing but burning where there should have been air. I open my eyes. They¡¯d been closed for I don¡¯t know how long. The room¡¯s dark and my heat vision¡¯s nothing but orange, red, and white. Li Mei could be anywhere. But she¡¯ll only be in one place. I brace myself as she leaps toward me. Then I use Truthseeker again. This time, I know what¡¯s coming, and I put every scrap of will into the power. So does she. She fights back. The void wings behind me unfurl and join me in pushing against Li Mei¡¯s will¡ªagainst the grasp that¡¯s tearing against my mind and body. We struggle for a long time. But it¡¯s inevitable. I¡¯m going to win. And eventually, I do.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - The first thing I need to know is where Li Mei¡¯s from, because it¡¯s not R-0. The second thing I need to know is something I wouldn¡¯t have even thought about before this morning. Before the ongoing thinning where Merge Prime started. And before I spent time looking the Revolver over in excruciating detail while I walked to the bird sanctuary¡¯s wave barrier. This is going to work. But I need to know for sure before I take the shot. So. Here I am. Here we are. In a reality that¡¯s nothing. It reminds me of the not-gray void between my Mindscape and here, or the nothing abyss below the sands on that beach. Li Mei and I stand, watching. She¡¯s seething. She can¡¯t even speak; if she was Alice, she¡¯d be in agony from how tightly she¡¯s clamped her jaw shut. She¡¯s tried to attack me a dozen times, but it¡¯s like we¡¯re both made of nothing but air. While we¡¯re here, we¡¯re nothing. Without form. Void. The only thing we can do is watch as a half-dozen clouds of smoke converge on one larger cloud. They wrestle it to the not-ground, forcing it lower and lower until it¡¯s at the same level we are. The biggest of the attackers breaks free. It seems to speak, but I can¡¯t hear anything. There¡¯s nothing to hear. Li Mei fills in. ¡°I did nothing wrong. Everything I did was well within the bounds of what our reality could handle, and they changed the rules after I did it.¡± She doesn¡¯t want to talk; it¡¯s less a conversation than a series of growls and grunts between Alice¡¯s teeth. But with what I¡¯m seeing, it¡¯s enough. A thinning appears. It opens slowly, and the smaller shadow smokes force the big one through. We follow not of our own accord, but as if dragged by the sun¡¯s gravity. We came out in Hong Kong¡ªbefore it was a walled city, but after the original one was destroyed. The shadow smoke Li Mei doesn¡¯t actively feed right away, but even so, signs start losing letters all around her. It takes her almost five minutes to form a body, and she moves shakily. It¡¯s a teenage girl¡¯s body, but her skin¡¯s jet-black. The only part of her that¡¯s not sits in her stomach a shimmering, pulsing core that makes my ears ring. A thinning. That¡¯s all I need to know, but I wait the memory out. The Truth Li Mei believes about herself, that everyone will eventually betray her, is backed by evidence; even before she existed in our reality, everyone she knew did betray her. It¡¯s not enough to solve the Inquiry, and I know it. That¡¯s okay. I¡¯ll find out soon enough. I don¡¯t need to know every Truth Li Mei believes. I only need to know the one she¡¯s trying to hide. What she is. Where she¡¯s from. And I already do, now.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 17, 2043, 7:41 AM - - - - - When we break free from her memories, Li Mei vanishes. She turns to smoke and disappears. I¡¯m not worried about where she¡¯s going, though. I think I know exactly what her plan is now. More importantly, I know how to stop her. I load the Mergebreakers; the Revolver glows a deep purple as I hurry down the hall, letting my night vision aug guide me. She¡¯s in the Nuclear Failsafe room. The door opens without a fight. The room¡¯s tiny, only a little bigger than the basic living apartment I grew up in. The bomb¡¯s in the middle of the room. I expected a round tube, like a missile. Or maybe a giant sphere with a control panel. But this bomb looks nothing like one. It¡¯s a bunch of wires around a shockingly thin metal tube, with a tiny sphere on one end and what looks like a gray mass stuck to the other side. The control panel¡¯s on the far side of the room, connected by the rat¡¯s nest of wires. And Li Mei is over there, too. The Revolver goes up. She whirls, screaming and spitting like a cat. Her black-and-red eyes glow so bright they¡¯re pink-white. I start firing. Li Mei turns to shadow smoke. I don¡¯t care. I use Bullet Time. She freezes in place, and I put three shots into her stomach, where the shimmering, pulsing thinning should be. Then I wait. Chapter Seventy-Four The only part of social studies I understood was learning about the Black Death. There was something final about it. Something truthful. The percentages, the math, what that math meant for Europe. It was horrific, but it was honest. I was fascinated by the art, too. The macabre Deaths dancing with everyone who was alive but in fear. In other words, everyone. It had that same sense of finality to it. Of truth. Later, we learned about World War II and what the Americans built to end the war in the Pacific. After we did, I couldn¡¯t help but hear Oppenheimer¡¯s quote from the Bhagavad Gita everywhere. ¡°I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.¡± That was a weird couple of weeks.
SHOCKS Headquarters, Victoria, British Columbia - June 17, 2043, 7:41 AM - - - - - I am become Death. In the end, I don¡¯t have to find a box for her. It¡¯s already been built¡ªbut I don¡¯t think the creatures living there will be happy to see her. The Mergebreaker bullets rip into the shadowsmoke Alice body. They slice through the black smog and head for the tiniest point of the merge that¡¯s tying Li Mei to this reality. I can only see it because I am become Death. She¡¯s never had to hide it, and now it¡¯s too late. Li Mei screams. Alice screams, too, as her body goes solid and collapses next to the shell-less bomb. She¡¯s bleeding, but I keep the Revolver trained on her as I creep forward. She¡¯ll either be fine or she won¡¯t. They¡¯re both screaming. Not as one, but separately. The thinning in Li Mei¡¯s core collapses. Then it explodes out, throwing the bomb off its frame and ripping wires out of it. The control panel goes black. The detonation throws me through the door and into the hall. My aug flickers and pops, and wave after wave of vertigo passes and near-instantly disappears, only to be replaced by more. I¡¯m screaming, too, and waiting for the nuke to go off. Then, after a moment, I realize I¡¯m screaming alone, and the bomb¡¯s not exploding. Li Mei is gone. I¡¯m a destroying angel, Vishnu, a Voiceless Singer. Whether she¡¯s dead or not, she won¡¯t be back. The thinning¡¯s closed. She¡¯s back where she belongs. I¡¯ve won. The bomb¡¯s on the ground in between Alice and me. It¡¯s not counting down; in fact, it¡¯s in pieces; it wasn¡¯t built to be tough. Not like¡­ My wings open behind me, casting a purple-black void light across the room. And there, on the ground, I see Alice¡¯s body. It¡¯s got bullet holes. Three of them, through her stomach. She¡¯s bleeding¡ªa lot. I try to slow it down with a hand, but the pressure does nothing. Alice¡¯s body needs more help than I can give her, and now that I¡¯ve forced Li Mei out, the rest of it¡¯s just getting Alice back in. I can¡¯t give up on that now; I¡¯ve already done the hard part. My hand¡¯s slick with blood. I pick up the Revolver, heart thudding in my temples and drowning out the rest of everything. Now that Li Mei¡¯s dead, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the other anomalies that are still in SHOCKS custody get bold. I have to move fast. The first thing is starting the generators. I leave Alice¡¯s body where it is. The plan I have in mind needs power more than it needs me to watch over her. The generator room¡¯s almost silent as one after another, the machines stop idling and go into a fully powered-down state. I fiddle with the controls until the first one starts humming again. ¡°James, you there?¡± [Yes. I¡¯m re-watching your fight through your aug¡¯s record. Well¡ª] ¡°Later. I need you to fire up the rest of the generators right now. All of them. I¡¯m moving Alice to the Experimental Sector.¡± Now that the power¡¯s coming back online, I¡¯ve got options. Both solutions to this math problem are to not solve it. I hate that failing to solve is a viable solution¡ªthat in itself makes it not appealing. But if I can move Alice¡¯s body to another reality where her injuries won¡¯t be so lethal, I can get her back inside herself. If I can get her to somewhere that¡¯ll heal her, that¡¯d be even better, but I¡¯ll settle for buying time right now. The other solution is¡­better and worse. It¡¯s also a lot easier to figure out, since I don¡¯t know if I can take another body with me unless I have the merge generator. But if the tank SHOCKS stored James¡¯s body in is still intact, I can use that. It¡¯ll keep Alice¡¯s body alive until I can get some experts here to help her back into it. The problem is that I know what that did to James. And I don¡¯t know if I have the leverage to make SHOCKS fix Alice before her body atrophies to nothing and she¡¯s nothing but a permanently eight-year-old girl in my head¡ªor worse, a digital construct like James. He¡¯s happy, but he¡¯s also the Halcyon System in almost its entirety. Alice wouldn¡¯t be either of those things. So. I pick up Alice¡¯s body. It¡¯s still bleeding, but I ignore the wet that¡¯s soaking my hoodie and running down my back. ¡°James, let me know if anything¡¯s between me and the Experimental Sector. If you can figure out how to get the auto defenses going, do that. Otherwise, close doors to keep them away from me.¡± [Got it. Are you going to¡­?] he trails off. ¡°Yes.¡± [I wish you wouldn¡¯t,] he mutters, but he doesn¡¯t try to stop me. I can tell he¡¯s not happy about firing up the tank he spent most of his life inside, but I need it running, and if he¡¯s not going to stop me, he might as well be helpful.
The monsters aren¡¯t out quite yet. I have to fire a few warning shots to keep a couple of anomalies back as I move through the Xuduo-Danger wing and toward the airlock to the Experimental Sector, but nothing¡¯s willing to be aggressive with the Alice body nearby. It¡¯s only a matter of time until one of them realizes that Li Mei¡¯s not inside it anymore, though, and when they do, they¡¯ll come searching for me. I can probably handle them. I am become Death¡ªwhen I need to be. But I¡¯d rather not. There¡¯s so much to do. The airlock seals behind me, and I have to step gingerly through all the gore. Lambda-Five looks like they¡¯ve exploded. I can¡¯t even find enough to figure out who¡¯s who; something ripped through them and showed absolutely no mercy, and I know exactly who it was. Wherever I sent Li Mei, I hope she¡¯s suffering. She was never my best friend. Best friends don¡¯t treat people like this. I¡¯ll deal with the bodies when I can. Right now, I need to take care of Alice. The merge generator¡¯s in pieces; Doctor Twitchy¡¯s masterpiece will never work again. Li Mei destroyed both anomalies just like she did Lambda-Five. They¡¯re in tatters or shattered, and every computer in the room¡¯s nothing more than a brick¡ªa gigantic paperweight. That leaves me with one option. I pass the wrecked portal, not stepping through it in case stuff¡¯s still active but out of control. The tank¡¯s still there, just beyond it, but it¡¯s covered in dust. It¡¯s only been a week. It shouldn¡¯t be dusty¡ªand yet it is. ¡°James, what¡¯s making the tank work?¡± I ask, suspicious. [It¡¯s an anomaly all its own¡ªsomething SHOCKS built, though. A lot like the merge generator, but with a lot more intent to control both it and me. It was originally a sensory deprivation pod before all the ¡®upgrades.¡¯] ¡°Like, for relaxing?¡± The pod opens. James is getting it running, and the smell of salt water pushes back the stink of death that fills the Experimental Sector. [Yes.] James says. He doesn¡¯t say anything else. I decide to let it drop. Some Truths aren¡¯t for knowing.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The tank beeps as I strip Alice down and jam her body into one of James¡¯s wetsuits. Unlike his body, hers fills it out and then some; I¡¯m a little worried about cutting off her circulation, but not as worried as I am about hesitating and watching her die. The clear cap fits over her head, and the breathing mask slips over her mouth. [I¡¯m booting up the activation protocols. She¡¯ll be locked in until someone opens it from the outside, but Claire, I¡¯m not sure she¡¯s in there.] James means he¡¯s not sure Alice is in her body. That¡¯s a sticking point. I can¡¯t trust James, because I can¡¯t trust the Halcyon System. But I also can¡¯t not explain it to him. Can I? ¡°James, I can¡¯t explain why I know this will work, but I promise it will. Trust me.¡± He stays quiet as the tank starts to close. I remember James¡¯s emaciated, wrinkly body when I opened the tank a couple of weeks ago. It was only a couple of weeks ago? So much has happened. The pale, thin body¡ªnothing like Alice¡¯s athletic, tan one. Even here, she¡¯s managed to keep up with her exercising, and even though I¡¯m sure I look like death warmed over, she¡¯s got a little of her glow even though she¡¯s bleeding out slowly. The tank seals shut with a hissing sound. The Joint Anomalous System doesn¡¯t start up with Alice in control. The tank¡¯s screen goes dark, but the water¡¯s bubbling and gurgling through the pipes. I say a quiet, targetless prayer of thanks that Li Mei didn¡¯t destroy the tank when she took over, and that SHOCKS left it alone when they built the merge generator. Without it, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d have done with Alice. ¡°That¡¯ll keep her safe, right?¡± [I¡¯m working on activating the autonomous defenses for SHOCKS Headquarters, prioritizing defending the generator room and JAMES Experimental Sector,] James says. [I¡¯ll let you know if anything threatens either of them. In the meantime, you have something else to do here, don¡¯t you?] James is right. I don¡¯t want to deal with the rest of it, though. I want to sit here and watch over my stupid, perfect, helpless sister¡ªeven though this isn¡¯t here, even though this is just a body and she left it behind. The rest of it can burn for all I care. But¡­ I pull up my stats in the System. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 1/10 ?Skills - Endurance 8, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 12, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 22, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Mental Fortitude 2, Gravity Shells, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 2, Toxin Resistance 6, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk 2, Mindscape, Soundbreak, Determination, Absolution 2, Truthseeker ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling, Part of the Ship, Guardian Angel, Void Bond ?Inquiries (4/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?Why don¡¯t people come back from other realities? ?What truth does Li Mei need to hide? ? ? My skills haven¡¯t changed much in spite of everything that¡¯s happened. What does that mean within the system? Am I reaching a plateau? I¡¯m still getting new Truths from my Inquiries, but the Skills themselves aren¡¯t increasing like they used to, and if I am plateauing, that could be a problem. [Claire, focus on what you have to do.] I shake a little, trying to do what James says, but focus isn¡¯t easy right now, and it takes a minute before I¡¯m ready to start the next task. ¡°I¡¯m Acting Director Claire Pendleton, A-Level clearance, and I¡¯m taking control of the SHOCKS Headquarters Building for Victoria and Vancouver Island,¡± I say. It¡¯s a dumb bit of formality, but it also feels right. ¡°James, give me everything Doctor Paul Ramirez discovered on traveling to other worlds, everything on why SHOCKS cared about West End High, and everything on Merge Prime.¡± [Got it, Acting Director,] James says. [As a warning, this information consists of several hundred gigabytes of text, video, and image files, as well as multiple anomalies designed to remove brain function in any non-cleared human who attempts to view certain files.] ¡°Let¡¯s start with the safe ones. Can you clean up the others while I¡¯m reading?¡± I head for the JAMES Experimental Sector¡¯s airlock. As I walk, the autoturret over James¡¯s¡ªAlice¡¯s¡ªtank swivels to life. It aims for the door but doesn¡¯t fire. On the way to the airlock, I find a few glimmering bits of metal with numbers and names on them: L5-1: ¡®Connor O¡¯Neill¡¯ and so on. They go into my hoodie pocket, clinking against the Revolver cylinders. SHOCKS will want to know. They¡¯ll want proof¡ªand closure. [Already working on it. Most of the security isn¡¯t built to stop someone like me, and what is isn¡¯t built for someone like me, specifically. It helps that I designed half of them, or at least helped with the designs.] He¡¯s talking to talk. I ignore him. Instead, I pull up the West End file. Auxiliary Research Site Forty-Five Intelligence Briefing, June 03, 2043, 10:32 PM [Anomaly] Event - 0-G-4/U1, Merge Prime [Status] Uncontained [Type] Ongoing [Danger] Qishi [Containment] None Update: We¡¯re looking into possible connections between R-389 and the reality merges we¡¯ve seen over the last ten days or so. Right now, the prevailing theory is that R-389 merged first due to its unreality levels being extreme in comparison to R-0, but that doesn¡¯t make sense. Additionally, Director Ramirez says he doesn¡¯t see a way for his project to open a merge to R-389. He is also unable to open merges to several other realities, including R-091. The fact that his merge generator cannot access merges directly related to Claire Pendleton¡¯s past is concerning. I believe¡ª I close that document and skip to another. There¡¯s no way this is the truth. Director Ramirez threw me into the events of the night Mom died¡ªthe night this bullshit all started. How could he not be able to access my past? And why my past? The documents scroll by; before long, I¡¯m skipping the briefings in the beginning and shuffling through them, trying to find what I¡¯m after. SHOCKS hasn¡¯t been telling me everything. ¡°James, did you know about all of this?¡± [I know about everything SHOCKS has on their computers,] he answers promptly. [I¡¯ve been approaching this information from the perspective of the Halcyon System, and in that regard, there are several curiosities I¡¯ve been unable to explain. One of them is the connection to your past, but that¡¯s felt very trivial in relation to the many crises you¡¯ve been handling.] ¡°James, have you been keeping secrets?¡± I ask, pulling the nametag from a mulched researcher¡¯s jacket. [Clarice Alora Pendleton, I¡¯m always keeping secrets. Always. I told you a long time ago that I would lie to you.] James sounds almost sad about it. [I have several different loyalties. From the perspective of the Halcyon System, you¡¯re the most useful tool in its kit right now. From SHOCKS¡¯s point of view, you¡¯re a dangerous opportunity to fight back. And to me, as myself, you¡¯re my best friend and I love you like a little sister.] ¡°Hey! I¡¯m older than you, sort of,¡± I say, half-smiling despite the mess Li Mei¡¯s made of the researchers and anomalies that didn¡¯t flee. He¡¯s telling the truth about all of this. [Sure. The point is that none of those points of view benefited from overwhelming you with information.] I let that hang, reading a file on possible weaponization of the merge generator as I head for the garage. I¡¯m halfway through when something jumps out at me. ¡°James, this file¡¯s not labeled with the SHOCKS headers. And it¡¯s photos, not a text file.¡± [No. This is a series of screenshots from Director Ramirez¡¯s optic augment. I think he¡¯s onto something, though.] Experiment Notes: Merge Generator Late-Stage Tests First experimental transport of personnel and material together across merge generator field and back: Successful Angles: Focus on moving weapons and securing flexible beachheads; look into cross-reality SHOCKS facilities; Focus on data-gathering; Improve safety for merge-walk personnel; Study how Clarice Alora Pendleton travels to cover point of failure w/ redundancy Note: What if we sent a nuke across instead of an RST? Possible Risks to Note: SHOCKS protocol is to leave realities uncontaminated; Possible pushback from some realities if they can re-merge w/ R-0; Risk of losing Clarice Alora Pendleton (single point of failure, no redundancy) Addendum - June 16: Risk of direct entry into other merged realities is too high. Current belief is that benefits of clearing potential merges of threats before they merge outweigh risks. Doctor Twitchy wants to go to war. Is he right? Most of the realities I¡¯ve visited can¡¯t stop something like a nuclear bomb¡ªnot unless the reality levels and laws of physics are messed up to the point where the bomb won¡¯t go off. Creating a buffer zone around thinnings before they pop could prevent merges from taking R-0 and SHOCKS by surprise. There¡¯s something to that for sure. If they¡¯d nuked R-389 before it merged at the soccer field, or R-091 before it killed Mom, the world would be a very different¡ªand probably better¡ªplace for me. But it¡¯s a lot to think about, and Director Ramirez wasn¡¯t all there after Lieutenant Rodriguez got¡­stretched¡­by the reality levels in Provisional Reality ARC. The math doesn¡¯t work out correctly. The possibility of fallout coming through the merge on top of the merge itself¡­or monsters mutating like in the movies? None of that¡¯s here. ¡°James, does Director Ramirez still have access to these notes?¡± I ask. [That doesn¡¯t matter.] He¡¯s right. Whether Doctor Twitchy has the notes or not, he has the idea. If he reaches another SHOCKS Headquarters, he¡¯ll try to spread that idea like a memetic anomaly. If it gets widespread enough¡­ Someone will try it. It¡¯ll probably work the first time. But eventually, it won¡¯t. It¡¯ll backfire and make this whole situation even worse. ¡°Get me a route to the cruise ship pier where they¡¯re at.¡± [They left over an hour ago. They¡¯re halfway across the Salish Sea by now,] James says. [I can get you a route to the nearest boat, though.] ¡°That¡¯ll work. Let¡¯s go.¡±
I have about as much experience sailing a sailboat as I do riding a motorcycle, and there¡¯s a storm coming in. This boat¡¯s old and creaky, and James is pretty sure it¡¯s going to sink before it makes it across the ocean. That doesn¡¯t matter¡ªI have an escape line in Mergewalk if I need it, and if I get close enough to shore, I can micromerge with the reality skippers. I don¡¯t have to solve every variable. Just enough of them. More importantly, I have a job to do. I need to catch up with the SHOCKS survivors, my dad, and Sora. And most importantly, with Director Ramirez. They found a few boats or something¡ªmaybe signaled across the sea for them. According to James, they¡¯re making landfall now. I¡¯m glad Sora and the Itos and Dad are safe. But I still need to find Director Ramirez. He¡¯s got the right idea. We need to stop the merges. But nuclear warfare isn¡¯t a solution. Reality Zero needs something more precise. An angel of death aimed at the source. Once I find that source, I can be that angel; I¡¯ve even got the wings for it now. The truth is that I am become Death, but I won¡¯t let Director Ramirez become the destroyer of worlds. Especially not our own. Chapter Seventy-Five: Book Two Epilogue South of Port Angeles, Washington, USA - June 17, 2043, 5:22 PM - - - - - Sora had never been to the United States. She¡¯d seen it on TV: Hollywood and New York, the romance of the flashing lights and busy streets, and the visits to famous architects¡¯ greatest works. But actually traveling there? That was an even more elusive fantasy, something to strive toward but never attain. She had ideas, though¡ªherself and Claire, dressed to kill and then some, in Times Square or at the Golden Gate Bridge, or seeing the Grand Canyon, or maybe even Disneyland! Of course, other people said that the USA was pretty much the same as Canada in most ways¡ªless friendly, less open to different people, and more focused on money, but other than that, pretty much the same. Sora didn¡¯t really know, and she didn¡¯t really care. So far, the United States of America was more like the United States of Rain and Bugbites. Not that the rainforest here was boring. Its moss-covered everything and nurse logs with perfectly straight rows of saplings on them¡ªnot to mention the towering, ancient old-growth trees that loomed almost as tall as skyscrapers¡ªwere fascinating. She hadn¡¯t been able to stop looking. And the smells? It wasn¡¯t the fir-and-ocean smell up the Vancouver Island coast. Everything was earthy, rich, and full of a pleasant scent of decay, fresh life, and wetness. Even just crossing the Salish Sea had put Sora in a whole new world, one she¡¯d never imagined. But every bit of exposed skin was covered in little sores, and she couldn¡¯t stop itching them. She swatted another mosquito. Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t get some funky disease. The USA kind of sucked so far, and she hadn¡¯t even seen any monsters¡ªbut at least she¡¯d been able to take the gas mask off a few hours ago when they made it to Port Angeles and left the fungus-looking stuff behind. Not that it had been any more comfortable; it had just given the bugs a new place to bite and the rain a new place to soak. Director Ramirez and the last guy in body armor were pushing them hard up Hurricane Ridge Road. According to the signs, there was nothing up here but an overlook and trailhead. According to the director, there absolutely was. He was almost frantic about it, and no one in the group had been together enough to protest until an hour or so ago when Claire¡¯s dad started getting pissed off. The SHOCKS trooper and a few of the guys with submachine guns had stuck him with a needle, and now he was just following along, as happy as a puppy on a walk. The sight gave Sora the shivers. She had a few books, a change of clothes, and some water. Her family had about the same. No one was ready for the storm, and there hadn¡¯t been time to prep better during the evacuation. So far, they hadn¡¯t had to fight anything, but if they did, she was supposed to run, but stay on the trail. They¡¯d regroup after the shooting. Hopefully. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll camp here,¡± the last SHOCKS trooper¡ªDaley, his uniform said, along with L4-4¡ªsaid. Director Ramirez looked about ready to argue; his face was a battle between exhaustion and desperation. But in the end, he gave in. ¡°We¡¯re about fifteen kilometers from SHOCKS Olympia anyway, and they¡¯re radio silent. We¡¯ll get there tomorrow. Everyone, get some rest. Agents, Daley, figure out pickets for the night.¡± Sora didn¡¯t bother groaning as she flopped into the mixture of pine needles and mud that qualified as the ground here. At least they were above the wettest of the rainforest now. It didn¡¯t help much, but it was something. ?¨‹? Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - When Li Mei finally forced her eyes open through the agony, she wished she hadn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t see anything. No, that wasn¡¯t true. Even when she couldn¡¯t see anything, she¡¯d always known there was something to see. It might not have been something she could see through the darkness or a cell or tank¡¯s walls, but there was always something. Here, she couldn¡¯t see a single difference between having her eyes open and closed. There was nothing. Not nothing as in an absence of information. That would have given her hope. No, this was the presence of nothing. Li Mei knew exactly where she was. She¡¯d grown up here¡ªin as much as her kind grew up, at least. This was the reality she had lived in, thrived in, and unintentionally given the first push on the descent into the nothing it had become. This reality had always been dying. She and the others of her kind had nursed it along, rationing what was left of its sensory information so they wouldn¡¯t starve while they tried to find a solution. None of them wanted to leave; they weren¡¯t suited for a hyperreality or anything much more unreal than where they lived. For better or worse, the ever-expanding void they were constantly helping create was home. The thing that had become Li Mei wanted more, though. She hungered and was never full. An extra bite here, a few sentences or the sound of a running stream there, and before she knew it, she was growing. Not just surviving, but thriving. It had come at the expense of their reality¡¯s careful balance, though, and as others rose to compete with her, she tore them apart and consumed them, too. For a while, she was unchallenged and undefeatable. Then they¡¯d started working together.Stolen story; please report. Not all of them. But enough to fight her, force her into submission, and banish her from her home. From her empire. What followed were decades of suffering, but also of feasting. Even the hungriest she¡¯d ever gotten in Reality Zero, she¡¯d never had to truly ration¡ªnot like she had before. She¡¯d grown stronger, but even though she¡¯d suffered¡ªeven though the hyperreality of her adopted home tore at the very core of her being, she¡¯d never once thought of going home. Now she was here. Only¡­here was nothing. They¡¯d scoured her reality of everything. Every scrap had been consumed, every piece of information hoarded and feasted upon and doled out in tiny scraps. Even the corpses of her former enemies weren¡¯t spared. For the first time in her life, Li Mei couldn¡¯t do anything. She sat in the emptiness and wept, cursing her bestie and that horrible gun she carried. How had she grown so strong¡ªstrong enough to throw her out of the reality she¡¯d grown to, if not love, then at least exist in? For countless hours¡ªtime had been devoured, too¡ªshe searched. But there was nothing¡ªno answer, and no way back. She was trapped. Betrayed by her best friend, and the nothing was nothing if not nothing. There was no way out because a way out would have been consumed. But no. There was something in the nothing. A shadowy figure much like her, little more than shadow smoke and a feeling of unease that set Li Mei on edge. All thoughts of Claire Pendleton fled from her mind as she looked upon the massive cloud of smog that dwarfed her. She only had one thought left. Li Mei howled in rage as both she and the other smoke shape threw themselves at one another. They were the only information left in this world of nothing, and they both hungered. ?¨‹? The Mindscape - - - - - Alice was having a blast. No matter how hard she kicked the soccer ball, she couldn¡¯t get it to stay over the garden wall. It¡¯d go over, then bounce back onto the grass¡ªand if she managed to break one of the cottage windows on accident, Madame Baudelaire would just fix it right back up. Easy peasy. The big picture wasn¡¯t exactly lost on her. So many of her personas¡ªwhich she¡¯d relied on to stay alive and sane the last ten years¡ªhad been consumed and destroyed. Her sister was either killing her or saving her, and she couldn¡¯t tell which one because they were almost the same. And she was stuck in Claire¡¯s head, with an overbearing French matron as a companion. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t see the big picture. It was that she didn¡¯t care about it. For the first time since she was eight, she didn¡¯t have to care, because there was nothing she could do. Either Claire would save her body and somehow find a way to get Li Mei out of it and put her back into it, or she¡¯d have to destroy it. Either way, Claire¡¯s Mindscape had a few fantastic features, like the shelf that looked like it only had ten Magic Treehouse books and a half-dozen of the Warrior ones about cats, but every time she finished one, the next one appeared. She could stay happy here forever. It was a good thing, too, because she might have to be. Claire hadn¡¯t come back yet. She hadn¡¯t lost¡ªif she had, Alice wouldn¡¯t be here, and neither would Madame Baudelaire¡ªbut she hadn¡¯t come back. What did that mean for Alice? She didn¡¯t know, but one thing was for sure: that full ride to the University of British Columbia would probably be off the table. She snorted, unable to stop herself from laughing. More seriously, though, while Alice could be happy here forever, she knew that Claire might not be quite so pleased to play hostess to her every night. There were only so many Doctor Seuss books to work through, and so many of the Percy Jacksons she read when Claire wasn¡¯t here. At some point, she¡¯d get bored¡ªor worse, Claire would get sick of her. She¡¯s always had a slightly uneasy relationship with her little sister. It wasn¡¯t Alice¡¯s fault, but it wasn¡¯t Claire¡¯s either. It was just a fact of their dynamic. When Alice had all the power, Claire had resented her for it. Alice was sure her little sister understood why she¡¯d had to play Mom, but that didn¡¯t mean she¡¯d liked it. Alice hadn¡¯t either; Claire always needed something, and the responsibility weighed on her. That¡¯s why she¡¯d build the first persona¡ªthe Alice Mom. Now that the roles were reversed, either Alice would get tired of being the little sister or Claire would get frustrated just like Alice. Unlike Alice, though, Claire had never been great with masks. She kicked the soccer ball. It bounced off the garden wall and ripped through a rosebush. The whole garden smelled like roses. Alice wondered why for a moment, then pushed the thought out of her head and pushed through the flowers, looking for her ball. Her raincoat hung on a hook near the garden gate, a pair of sticker-covered pink boots underneath. She both couldn¡¯t wait to put them on and walk home and dreaded the moment she¡¯d have to. ?¨‹? The world was on fire. Not as badly as Provisional Reality ARC, but for James, the end result was 97.265% likely to be the same. As the Halcyon System, he was already making plans to abandon this reality and move the fight to the next one. His adversary¡ªwhatever it was¡ªwas strong, and he was overmatched again. As James, though, he wasn¡¯t ready to surrender. He moved his processing loops away from the hotspots in Asia and the United States¡¯ east coast. Eastern Europe and South America were both abandoned already¡ªthere were people there, and they were fighting, but unless something changed, they wouldn¡¯t make a difference. Claire was constantly doing math in her head. She wasn¡¯t the only one. James had a single loop running an analysis of the odds that R-0 could pull through and recover. Twenty-eight hours ago, those odds had been below one percent. Now, they were closer to three than to one. It wasn¡¯t much, but the needle had started moving shortly after Claire fought the Voiceless Singer. And, more importantly, it hadn¡¯t stopped moving. The loop kept returning new values that were slightly better¡ªa millionth of a percent here, a few hundred thousandths there. The Halcyon System had other battles to fight, and it wasn¡¯t ready to throw more power behind a reality that, to it, was doomed to failure. That was the real reason for Claire¡¯s power plateauing. But the System didn¡¯t make those decisions in a vacuum. To James, the one-point-eight-ish percent increase in reality stabilization and an eventual return to something approaching normal were worth pouring effort into. If it could reach ten percent, or twenty, that¡¯d be enough for anyone to gamble on. And if not? What did the System really lose? He threw his weight into the fight, pitting his ever-increasing processing power against the golden-orange sun¡¯s overwhelming logic. James thought about numbers as he pushed against the System. It was funny, really¡ªhe and it had the same data¡ªthe sub-five-percent chance of this world pulling through. They both had the same ever-dropping number of people outside shelters and the same surges of shelters going dark. SHOCKS had gone silent worldwide, and there wasn¡¯t a single functional government of more than five million people; New Zealand barely counted, and it wasn¡¯t like that entire country wasn¡¯t getting merges as well. They¡¯d only been spared the worst of it because of their isolation. He didn¡¯t have data on what was happening in space, but he was pretty sure it wasn¡¯t any better there. However, their interpretations of the data were what mattered, and while the System thought R-0 was a lost cause, James only saw reason to hope in that two-point-seven-three-five percent chance of recovery. There was still a chance for this world, and James was determined to make the System take it. Chapter Seventy-Six My second merge started at 11:48 AM on the West End High soccer field, in the middle of my big sister¡¯s valedictorian speech. My most recent one was fourteen hours ago, and it probably saved Alice¡¯s life. Alice believes me now. I¡¯m not a liar, and she only is because she had to be. Now that her masks are gone, all she has is me¡ªand the truth. The merges keep piling up. Potpourri and flowers, and the bowels of dying realities. Shifting sands and ghost ships. Hyperrealities and monsters that erased themselves from my mind. The embrace of the void. And a return to an old memory¡­ The point isn¡¯t what¡¯s in my memories. The point is that something¡¯s about to happen. It¡¯s going to be big. And I¡¯m going to be at the center of it. Everything is important. And it¡¯s happening now.
Port Angeles, Washington, USA - June 17, 2043, 8:54 PM - - - - - The sailboat¡¯s mast whips over my head in the wind and rain, and I open a micromerge. The Port Angeles harbor¡¯s in sight¡ªat least, I hope it¡¯s Port Angeles¡ªand one second, I¡¯m on the sinking boat. The next, I¡¯m being squeezed through a too-small straw and spat out on the micromerge¡¯s far side, Revolver in hand. There¡¯s not a single light on in Port Angeles. The rusted sheet-metal buildings rattle as the storm blows sheets of rain sideways against their windows and roofs. I hardly notice the downpour. My hoodie¡¯s soaked all the way through with sea spray, and water drips from my hair onto my glasses; I¡¯ve long since given up trying to wipe it off. All I can do is deal with it. It¡¯s not like I have any dry clothes to change into anyway. [Claire,] James says, [the whole town¡¯s abandoned, but I¡¯m still getting power in a few places. The big one is the Olympic National Park visitor¡¯s center up the main road. We can hole up there for the night.] I don¡¯t want to hole up for the night, in a creepy visitor¡¯s center that¡¯s probably filled with taxidermied animals or in one of the many hotels that line Port Angeles¡¯s main street. I need to keep moving because there¡¯s so much at stake¡ªthe fate of my reality and possibly of a few dozen others, for one. Also, my friend Sora and my dad are with the survivors of SHOCKS Headquarters Victoria and Vancouver Island, and I want them back. At the very least, I need to make sure they¡¯re safe. And there¡¯s also the problem of Doctor Twitchy. That¡¯s a messy equation, no matter how I slice it. But even more pressing than that, Alice needs my help, and I¡¯ve abandoned her in SHOCKS VVI, in the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System Experimental Sector. I need to figure out how to get her back to her body; it¡¯s not going to be as easy as kicking her out of my Mindscape¡ªwhere she¡¯s trashing the place¡ªand telling her to go home. That¡¯d be nice, but there¡¯s no way that¡¯s the solution. If I sent her back now, she¡¯d be in SHOCKS VVI with no one to help her escape. In fact, she¡¯d even be stuck in the JAMES tank. James would never forgive me for that. I wouldn¡¯t forgive myself for that, either. So that¡¯s not an option. ¡°Fuck it,¡± I mutter, heading up the road in the direction James points me in. The visitor¡¯s center at least has power, even if it¡¯s going to be creepy as hell. And I need to rest and figure out what¡¯s next. The truth is that I don¡¯t know what¡¯s next. I just know that whatever it is, it¡¯s going to be important, and it¡¯s going to happen faster than I¡¯m ready for it. The visitor center¡¯s not far, maybe a mile or so south through town. The whole time I walk, I don¡¯t see anyone. Not a single person, and no anomalies. My ears don¡¯t ring, and I don¡¯t get a migraine. If it weren¡¯t for the lack of lights in town, I¡¯d be pretty sure it was just another normal night here. Whatever normal looks like. But without the lights, and with empty streets, it feels creepy. It shouldn¡¯t, though. This place reminds me of Ucluelet and the aquarium with the giant Pacific octopus, not Victoria. Sure enough, the visitor center¡¯s lights are on. It¡¯s a wood-framed building with wide glass windows that are still intact, with one exception where someone broke it out. Shards of sharp glass lie all over the concrete steps and porch. I ignore them crunching under my boots; even if they cut through the thick rubber soles, I¡¯ve toughened up a lot. It won¡¯t hurt me much. Then I¡¯m inside. There¡¯s a gigantic tree trunk cut thin that¡¯s propped up against one wall and a desk with a sign that says ¡®Hurricane Ridge¡¯ next to a bumpy 3-D map of the national park. The road leading into the Olympic Mountains is marked in bright red, and when I push the oversized buttons, lights brighten on it. Hurricane Ridge Road. It¡¯s almost quaint after the overwhelming technology that SHOCKS had. But of course, not everything in the visitor¡¯s center is comfy and interesting. The stuffed animals are the worst. There¡¯s a gigantic elk or moose or whatever, its antlers shiny and sharp-looking, that reminds me of the Stag Lord I killed in the JAMES Experimental Sector. And across from it, a mountain lion stares at me with glass eyes. No matter where I move, it keeps looking at me; if it weren¡¯t for the fact that it¡¯s obviously stuffed and dead, I¡¯d put a reality skipper round through its head, just to be sure. I almost do anyway. Instead, I head for the theater room. It looks kinda boring in here, but the moment I step inside, a video starts playing about how cool and interesting and awesome Olympic National Park is. I¡¯ll be honest: I don¡¯t care about Olympic National Park, and James has already told me absolutely everything I could ever want to know about both it and SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia. But if it¡¯s a choice between a nature documentary and those creepy-ass glass eyes, I¡¯ll choose the movie every time. I stretch out on a bench carved from a single gigantic tree, facing away from the screen and doing my best to tune out the voice telling me about the ever-changing cycle of life and death in the rainforest. Then I pull up my Status Screen. [System Access: 100%] [Recalculating Skills, Knowledges, Bonds, and Inquiries. Adjusting Stability] [Claire Pendleton] ?Stability 8/10 ?Skills - Endurance 8, Urban Combat 4, Anomalous Computing Systems 4, Physical Anomaly Resistance 12, Open Mind 1, Revolver Mastery 22, Compulsion Resistance 2, SHOCKS Database 1, Mental Fortitude 2, Reality Anchoring 3, First Aid 2, Toxin Resistance 6, Reality Skipper Shells, Bullet Time, Slither, Smoke Form, Analyze, Mergewalk 2, Mindscape, Soundbreak, Determination, Absolution 2, Truthseeker ?Truths - Anomalous Bond, West End High, SHOCKS Research Facility, JAMES, Stag Lord, Halcyon Bond, Li Mei and Infovampires, Dr. Dwyer, Provisional Reality AAA, Mergekilling, Part of the Ship, Guardian Angel, Void Bond ?Inquiries (3/5) ?What¡¯s going on at Albert Head and West End High? ?Why don¡¯t people come back from other realities? ?What truth does Li Mei need to hide? ? ? I¡¯ve got a lot going on, but the big ones I care about are Absolution, Truthseeker, and the mergebreaker rounds¡ªplus my Guardian Angel and Void Bond Truths, because they¡¯re the ones that change things.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Absolution, as near as I can figure, is less about destruction and more about freeing an anomaly. It¡¯s hard to explain, but so far, it¡¯s only really worked once I both knew what an anomaly was and why it ¡®felt¡¯ compelled to do whatever it was doing. It seems to stop it from having to do it anymore. Then again, it¡¯s only worked against the ghost ship and Voiceless Singer so far, so I could be wrong about it. It¡¯s disgustingly powerful, though. I¡¯m pretty sure I could ¡®free¡¯ a Qishi-Danger anomaly with it if I had to, but only with the proper setup. Truthseeker¡¯s less blatantly powerful. From what I can tell, it should really be called Pastseeker. It throws me into an anomaly¡ªor maybe any person¡¯s¡ªmemories against their will and lets me dig for those tasty Truths I¡¯m trying to figure out. It¡¯s a set-up Skill for figuring out Truths and either activating Absolution or giving me somewhere to shoot with my mergebreaker rounds. Those are pretty cool; most of the time, they¡¯re the most ¡®normal¡¯ bullets I have, but I can use them to close thinnings and merges between realities. That includes the thinnings that I can see at the core of every anomaly now, thanks to¡­something? Either Guardian Angel or Void Bond. One of the two, but I¡¯m not sure which. Anyway, I¡¯m going to need to keep growing, because while Li Mei might be defeated, she¡¯s not even the most powerful anomaly I¡¯ve encountered, much less the most powerful one I can imagine. And as possible as it was to simply shoot her to death, I had a pretty ideal situation in that fight. And that¡¯s a problem, because my growth is definitely plateauing. But it¡¯s a problem for tomorrow. I¡¯ve had a full day already, and even if I do catch up to Director Ramirez, Dad, and Sora, I need to be in shape to handle them. The movie stops, and after a few minutes, the lights go out. I don¡¯t even notice; I¡¯m already half-asleep, with the purplish glow of the fragmented Voiceless Singer wings washing over my back and casting long shadows across the room around me.
South Port Angeles, Washington, USA - June 18, 2043, 3:58 AM - - - - - James wakes me up, and not for the first time, I feel bad about every time I had to drag Alice out of bed. Part of the problem is that I spent a good hour in my Mindscape with her. It cut into my already limited sleep because she wasn¡¯t happy with just one book. I know she can handle more than just being read to because Madame Baudelaire reported in on everything the ¡®interloper¡¯ did while she was there, but she doesn¡¯t want to read chapter books when I¡¯m there. She wants me to baby her. And I get it, I really do, but the math doesn¡¯t line up for my personal equation. I have too much to do. The other part is that it¡¯s four in the goddamned morning, and the sun¡¯s already starting to peek over the trees. And then, of course, there¡¯s also the wooden bench. It was made for a twenty-minute video, not for a six-hour sleep. So I¡¯m stiff, and I¡¯m grumpy, and I¡¯d kill for an energy drink¡ªor for a cigarette. I never got addicted¡ªat least, I don¡¯t think I did¡ªbut even the ritual ones with the Truth Club were relaxing. I can see how people get hooked. Breakfast is¡­instant coffee from the staff room and nothing else. I get information from James that ruins my appetite; even though my body¡¯s screaming for food, the thought of a granola bar is enough to send bile up my throat. [I lost track of the Victoria and Vancouver Island survivors a half-hour ago,] he says. [I don¡¯t think they¡¯re dead, but I don¡¯t know anything with one hundred percent confidence. They were near the Hurricane Ridge visitor¡¯s center, at the end of the road.] Something about his voice chills me to the bone, and I down the entire paper cup of cheap coffee, ignoring the bitter, half-cooked taste. My damp hoodie goes back on, covering my skin, and I push into the misty morning. At least it¡¯s sunny now; the storm¡¯s broken, and even though every step on the side of the road means stepping in puddles, the morning mist isn¡¯t enough to block the sun completely. It¡¯s an improvement. As I hurry up the Hurricane Ridge road and past the entry station, the jungle slowly gives way to more rocky, dry-ish terrain. It¡¯s more pine needles, rocks that have fallen from the occasional roadside landslides blocked by concrete barriers, and moss. So much moss. And a ringing in my ears. It¡¯s faint, but it¡¯s enough to tell me there¡¯s something here. A thinning, or a merge. At the very least, something anomalous. Anomalous almost always means bad; all I can do is hope that it¡¯s one of the lower-powered ones¡ªan Anquan or Geren-Danger anomaly, or maybe a low Xuduo. A thought pops into my head. ¡°James, where did SHOCKS have me rated on the danger scale?¡± [Early? Mid-to-low Geren,] he answers almost immediately. [More recently, mid-Xuduo, with an additional Atero designation for your mission-critical status and interest in cooperating. I was the same when they had me in containment.] He doesn¡¯t mention the tank or the Experimental Sector. Mid-Xuduo? That¡¯s pretty solid. ¡°Did they update my danger rating after my most recent trip to Provisional Reality ARC?¡± [No. They have no idea about the Void Bond.] ¡°And where would you rate me now?¡± I ask, hurrying up the road. The Void Bond¡¯s cool-looking, but the wings won¡¯t hold my weight. They don¡¯t even let me glide. I don¡¯t actually know what they do; so far, they¡¯ve maybe let me see inside of anomalies and maybe helped me push my Skills harder. [I¡¯m not qualified to¡ª] ¡°Yes, you are. You¡¯re aware of almost every anomaly on Earth.¡± James laughs. [It was worth a shot. High-Xuduo-Danger. Not any stronger than that.] That stings a little. I¡¯d like to think I¡¯m powerful enough to threaten anything¡ªespecially after my victory over Li Mei¡ªbut he¡¯s telling the truth. I have a long way to go before¡­ I pull myself out of my incoming equation before I can get too far into the numbers on my power level. It doesn¡¯t matter. What¡¯s important is that my ears aren¡¯t ringing any more or any less, and I¡¯ve jogged a good two hundred yards up the road. That means that whatever¡¯s out there, it¡¯s following me. No. Not following me. Stalking me.
I ignore it. I¡¯m high-Xuduo, and even if I wasn¡¯t, I¡¯ve got more important things to do than track down an anomaly that doesn¡¯t want to be found but wants to keep an eye on me. The forest stays thick enough that I can barely see through the first hundred yards, but the Olympic Mountains¡¯ slopes gradually steepen as James and I push higher. So does the road. Then we come to a tunnel. I hesitate. The dark tunnel¡¯s not that long, and I can see the sun on the far side, but it¡¯s the perfect place for an ambush. The one thing I don¡¯t want is to get inside and find both exits blocked. I could escape, but I¡¯m worried about the SHOCKS survivors, Dad, and Sora. On the other hand¡­it¡¯s the perfect place for an ambush. I take a deep breath and break into a sprint, pushing my Endurance to the limit as I dash through the dark, creepy tunnel. Nothing jumps out to attack me¡ªno giant spiders or horde of zombies¡ªand the second I¡¯m through, I push myself against the cliff on the other side and ready my Revolver. Then I wait. One minute passes. A minute thirty. My heart¡¯s pounding consistently, and I can keep track of the time by its beats¡ªplus, James has a clock running in my optic augment. The Revolver¡¯s leveled at the tunnel exit, but I¡¯m listening for anything besides the ever-growing ringing in my ears. It¡¯s getting closer. Then, suddenly, there it is. There he is. He¡¯s missing an eye, and one of his ears is covered in a thick bandage. That¡¯s the first thing I notice about him. The second is that he¡¯s filthy; whatever color his curly hair and beard were, they¡¯re gray-brown from the mud in them now. He¡¯s got a backpack the size of a motorcycle, and his boots aren¡¯t military grade; they¡¯re worn leather hikers. The pair of crystalline patterns orbiting him come into view a moment later. One is the color of the sky, and the other is moss green. ¡°You human?¡± he asks, holding his hands up as I keep the Revolver trained on the center of his tattered windbreaker. [Don¡¯t answer that,] James says. ¡°I think so,¡± I respond. The Revolver doesn¡¯t shift, and his hands stay where I can see them. ¡°You?¡± ¡°Mostly.¡± Something about his response is a little chilling, and I hesitate, but he¡¯s not lying. That means¡­that means he¡¯s probably bonded with an anomaly. He¡¯s not that different than me. ¡°James, can you keep an eye on him?¡± [Yes. I recognize him¡ªvaguely, at least. He¡¯s definitely bonded with an anomaly, but he¡¯s severed his connection to the Halcyon System. He¡¯s still growing a lot like you, but he¡¯s removed his augments, and I don¡¯t see any connected tech on him. Not even a GPS tracker, which I¡¯d expect from an outdoorsman. I¡¯ll do my best, but I don¡¯t trust him,] James says. Neither do I. ¡°I¡¯m Claire,¡± I say, lowering the Revolver barrel a few degrees and sticking out a hand. My void-shard wings shift a little as a move, and I self-consciously narrow my eyes in case¡­in case he notices the shadow of Li Mei in them. The anomalies I¡¯ve bonded with are¡­weird ones. Not that his revolving crystals are any less strange. He hesitates, then tentatively reaches out, shakes my hand, and withdraws almost faster than I can follow. ¡°Alexander.¡± I¡¯m not ready to make friends. Alexander feels untrustworthy; there¡¯s something about the shifting eyes and the way the moss green and sky blue crystal matrices rotate to stay focused on me that tells me he doesn¡¯t trust me, either. But he¡¯s clearly moving in the same direction I was, and if my choice is between having him stalking me in the woods or traveling with me, in the open, where I can see him and react to him, I¡¯d prefer the second one. His eye doesn¡¯t look predatory, anyway. It looks¡­ I take a good look at his eye. It¡¯s blue. Not just the iris, either, but the whole thing. It¡¯s like staring into the sky on a clear day. Like spinning into the void, but instead of nothing, it¡¯s a sea of brilliant sapphire. I can almost feel myself getting lost in his eye. Then he blinks, and it¡¯s gone. ¡°You going to Hurricane Ridge?¡± It¡¯s not a question, not really. According to James, it¡¯s the only place this road goes, so he already knows the answer. ¡°Not much up there.¡± ¡°Yeah, I am,¡± I say. I tuck the Revolver away and get walking. ¡°You?¡± For the first time, Alexander smiles, and for half a second, his face does look predatory. Then it¡¯s gone. ¡°Yeah. I got work to do past Obstruction Point.¡± I start walking, waving for him to follow. I don¡¯t trust him at all, but better the threat you can see than the one you can¡¯t. Chapter Seventy-Seven [SHOCKS Security System Footage] OLY Control Zone, May 25, 2043 Footage taken from Security Checkpoint Hurricane Ridge Cameras 3-8, 1453-1501 - - - - - 1453: Camera 8 stares at the flanks of Mount Olympia from Security Checkpoint HR¡¯s southwest corner. The view is mostly unchanged from normal. Tourists flock the patio and enter the field below, in spite of signs warning them not to. Digital Visual Seismography notes a slight uptick in activity, but nothing significantly above normal. Security systems log the event. 1457: A second uptick in seismic activity spikes, this time triggering the system¡¯s anomaly-detection procedures. Most tourists have not yet noticed anything, and continue to behave as typical sightseers. 1458: Park Service rangers attached to Security Checkpoint HR begin moving civilians away from view of Mount Olympia as seismic activity continues. Most civilians are cooperative, but a few offer verbal or physical resistance. Seismic activity is now visible on camera to the naked eye, and is centered on SHOCKS Headquarters OLY. 1500: Additional seismic activity is detected rippling out from SHOCKS Headquarters OLY and covering the Olympic Peninsula. It stops a half mile away from the coastline in every direction, and sensors in the Pacific Ocean and Salish Sea show no spike. 1501: Camera 4 picks up a flash on the far side of Security Checkpoint HR, near the parking lot. Visual feed is lost within one-point-three seconds of contact. Flash is vaguely human-shaped. 1501: Camera 3 picks up a flash in the lower level of Security Checkpoint HR, in the SHOCKS-only section of the building. Visual feed is lost within zero-point-nine seconds of contact. Flash is indescribable. 1501: Camera 6 picks up a flash in the main level of Security Checkpoint HR, in the middle of the gift shop. Visual feed remains for four-point-nine seconds. Flash is human-shaped and likely male. Civilians begin reacting to the flash, then go catatonic. 1501: Camera 8 picks up a flash on the side of Mount Olympia. Visual feed is lost immediately. 1501: All remaining security cameras at Security Checkpoint HR lose visual feed. Contact with Security Checkpoint HR is lost. Notably, no other Security Checkpoints lose contact with SHOCKS Headquarters OLY, nor do they report similar events. SHOCKS HQ OLY remains in contact with all other SHOCKS facilities in its Control Zone.
James would have killed for more information. Any information. His struggle with the Halcyon System had yielded a few results, and not all of them were positive. Despite his near-omniscience, James didn¡¯t have the crucial piece of the puzzle yet; he couldn¡¯t convince the System itself that R-0 was worth making a stand for. The odds were simply too great, even if they were still improving. The System was still planning on abandoning it, and James couldn¡¯t stop it. He had bought some time¡ªa week¡ªbut honestly, James was sick of buying time. He¡¯d done that as the Joint Anomaly Management Enhancement System in the first weeks of this disaster, then kept doing it as Claire¡¯s personal pseudo-AI assistant. Then he¡¯d kept doing it as the Halcyon System¡¯s personality in R-0 and his fake position as the JAMES Unit when they¡¯d returned to SHOCKS. Buying time helped. The more time he could buy, the more Claire could grow. But James was tired of buying time. He wanted to win. He just didn¡¯t have the information he needed to get that win. And he couldn¡¯t lie¡ªnot to the Halcyon System, not when it was him and he was¡ªmostly¡ªit. He couldn¡¯t even misinterpret the information he did have. Right now, James had thousands of processing loops digging into Alexander, dozens of loops focused on Alice¡¯s body and making sure the automated defenses in SHOCKS VVI protected her, and millions trying to find a single scrap of evidence that Reality Zero had a chance at surviving this¡ªthat Claire or Alice or any of the thousands of people who¡¯d bonded with anomalies had a shot at stopping Merge Prime from consuming the whole reality and leaving a husk behind like it clearly had Provisional Reality ARC. So far, he hadn¡¯t found much. He needed information he didn¡¯t have access to, from sources he couldn¡¯t connect to, in places that didn¡¯t exist. That was a headache and a half, even for a digital mind, so he shut down his direct observation of those processing loops and focused in on Claire. Claire was also a headache and a half, because of all the bonded human/anomaly pairs, she¡¯d grown exponentially faster than any he¡¯d been watching. He pulled up her stats; they should be even higher than they were, but the Halcyon System¡¯s partial withdrawal had messed with her growth, and there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was figure out how to make her as strong as possible in the next week. All his eggs were in one basket, and that basket was Clarice Alora Pendleton.
Hurricane Ridge Road, Washington, USA - June 18, 2043, 8:22 AM - - - - - Alexander seems¡­fine. There¡¯s something wrong with him. There¡¯s definitely something wrong with him. I can tell that from his pointed, no-nonsense conversation and from the complete lack of any small talk. He¡¯s not lying. But he¡¯s not providing a scrap of information more than he has to. At least not about himself. ¡°Hurricane Ridge Visitor¡¯s Center¡¯s up top. I¡¯ll camp there tonight if I can.¡± ¡°Something feels wrong. Off the road for a half-mile.¡± ¡°That gun got real bullets? Might need ¡®em. Wildlife¡¯s been acting strange.¡± Tons of information about where we¡¯re going¡ªthe forest that¡¯s slowly giving way to alpine heights, the animals that might be dangerous in the forest, and a sense of wrongness that rivals the ringing in my ears. Alexander¡¯s a useful find. But nothing about himself. My hand doesn¡¯t leave the grip of my Revolver the whole hike upward. We found a campsite¡ªthere had to be between fifty and a hundred people there last night, and I even found a page from a book. It¡¯s got a picture of a building on it. So Sora¡¯s up and running. James says he can¡¯t pick up any of their augments, though. And he¡¯s got some other information for me. [Claire, Alexander¡¯s not in any government records,] he says. ¡°No British Columbia records?¡± I whisper. [No. Alexander is not in any government records. He doesn¡¯t exist, and there are only a few possibilities for why. Neither of them are good. First, he could be aligned with SHOCKS or a rival or oppositional organization that purged him from those records. That¡¯s pretty standard practice. Alternatively, he could be an invisible man. There are a few of them out there¡ªthey make a conscious decision to cut themselves off from augments, the world, and so on.] ¡°Probably not that one, right?¡± I say. [Right. His injuries are too recent.] I take a good look at Alexander. His single eye¡¯s almost crystal blue, but there¡¯s brown dried blood around the other one. That aug came out recently, and it didn¡¯t come out clean; he had to destroy his entire eye to pull it. I imagine what¡¯s under the filthy, brown-and-gray bandage is similar¡ªa mutilated ear, possibly still bleeding, but certainly scabbed and festering. [I¡¯m trying to get a sample of his DNA, or a retina scan, or anything, but it¡¯s like he¡¯s intentionally destroyed any evidence of who he is. So far, nothing¡¯s been conclusive, and I feel like it¡¯s important. We need to know this. Your life could depend on it.]The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. We reach a parking lot at the top of the Hurricane Ridge Road, and a brown building that almost looks like something I¡¯d have drawn as a kid. It sits at the far side of the lot, squat and square-ish. Alexander hurries ahead, but I wait until I can¡¯t see his swirling crystals. ¡°You think he¡¯s that strong? I¡¯m not getting a Xuduo-Danger vibe from him,¡± I say. [Yes.] ¡°Should I try to¡­kill him?¡± I ask. I don¡¯t want to. He hasn¡¯t done anything to deserve death yet. All he¡¯s done is keep me out of danger all the way up here¡ªnot that I couldn¡¯t have handled that myself¡ªand told me a little about what¡¯s happening in Olympic National Park. [I don¡¯t think so.] James pauses. [At least not yet. But we need to know more about him¡ªwhat he¡¯s bonded with, for one thing. I think he¡¯s stronger than you think, and we need to be ready for anything.] ¡°Got it.¡± I pull up my Inquiries and make a few changes. ?Inquiries (4/5) ?Why was the Truth Club¡¯s circle so interesting? ?How does Director Ramirez intend to weaponize the merge generator? ?How can I get Alice back in her body? ?Who is Alexander? ? I leave one blank, just in case. Then I follow Alexander. I ignore the decaying bodies in the parking lot, and the crows and ravens and flies. They look like tourists, mostly¡ªa few people in brown and tan uniforms, but mostly light sweaters and tennis shoes. There¡¯s not anything I can do for those people, and there hasn¡¯t been for a long time. Instead, I breathe through my mouth to avoid the stench of rot. Whatever happened here, at least it was quick. No one had a chance to drag themselves away and die in the woods. Inside¡¯s not any better¡ªin fact, I can¡¯t ignore the smell anymore. There are so many of them: adults and kids and even a couple of dogs, still wearing their service animal harnesses. Every one of them has their eyes open, and it takes me a minute to realize they¡¯re all facing the same direction. Every eye is glued to a burn mark in the center of the¡ª ¡°Hurry up, kid,¡± Alexander says. He¡¯s standing at the top of a flight of stairs leading down. ¡°We need to get inside.¡± We¡¯re already inside, I don¡¯t say. He¡¯s not talking about the visitor¡¯s center, which means there¡¯s something else here. ¡°James?¡± I ask as I pick my way through the bodies; judging by the new layer of gunk on Alexander¡¯s boots, he was less careful. [SHOCKS Security Facility,] he responds. [We infiltrated a lot of government entities, especially where increased anomalous activity was involved.] The bogeymen sure are everywhere. I start working on a new equation. This one¡¯s about Alexander, and why he knows so much about this place. The variable isn¡¯t that he knows SHOCKS was here. That¡¯s a constant for sure. It¡¯s why. What was he? An experiment? An anomaly in his own right? Someone like me, who got caught up in events and bonded, then got conscripted by SHOCKS? Depending on the answer, my strategy for dealing with him needs to be different. If he¡¯s an experiment like James, maybe I can reason with him, and even if I can¡¯t, he might want me to shut the experiment down. If he¡¯s an anomaly, I have no problem destroying him the second he¡¯s a problem. But if he¡¯s what we think he is¡ªjust a guy who had the bad luck to get caught up in stuff¡ªthat¡¯s different. The equation¡¯s not going to solve itself. I need to know more. I follow Alexander down the stairs.
There¡¯s another burn mark in the staff-only area. It¡¯s funny, though. The rest of the room¡¯s full of untouched hiking and camping equipment, plus more mountaineering and rescue equipment than I¡¯ve ever seen before. If James hadn¡¯t told me what it was, I wouldn¡¯t be able to identify any of it. And it¡¯s all in great shape. There are bodies down here, and they¡¯re definitely dead, but their uniforms and backpacks are untouched¡ªand unburnt. [Claire, I don¡¯t have access to any security systems. They¡¯re all running off solar, and I can look at them, but all the cameras are fried, the alarm systems are offline and inaccessible, and even the smoke detectors aren¡¯t working. This place has power. It has water. But it doesn¡¯t have any way for me to connect to it,] James says. [It¡¯s like it was set up to be impossible for me to interact with, but I could a month ago. I did a month ago.] ¡°Do you remember what happened?¡± I ask. [I¡­don¡¯t.] James goes quiet. [When the SHOCKS facilities all went air-gapped to stop the System¡¯s access attempts, I lost contact with SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia. Whatever happened to this facility happened after the initial decision to isolate, but judging by the tourists, before any lockdown order occurred. I can¡¯t get into the Security Checkpoint, either.] Alexander doesn¡¯t care about my mumbling to myself. He¡¯s looking for something; his massive backpack¡¯s off his shoulders and sitting on a table above the handful of bodies. All my stuff from basic living could probably have fit in his pack with room to spare. What I do have is the knowledge that the SHOCKS VVI survivors passed by here and that they did it only a few hours ago¡ªin the early morning. The door was unlocked and hanging open, and muddy bootprints were all over the floor. I¡¯m closing in on them. But I haven¡¯t caught up yet. And Director Ramirez is pushing them fast. Right now, I need to know more about Alexander¡ªand I need to get ready for a long trip into the mountains, because while I haven¡¯t asked James, I¡¯ve got a feeling SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia is under Mount Olympus. Unless there¡¯s another entrance, I¡¯m going to be hoofing it. So I busy myself with looting. It¡¯s not like anyone here needs the spare uniforms or backpacking food that¡¯s all ¡®just add water,¡¯ anyway. And while I fill out a backpack that feels like it¡¯s almost as big as Alexander¡¯s, I watch what he¡¯s doing. He¡¯s not looking for supplies. I watch him through the metal shelves as he reaches a wall with a map of the Olympic Peninsula on it; I can barely see the southern tip of Vancouver Island, and the rest of it¡¯s unfamiliar, but it¡¯s covered in colored pins. He starts pulling them out: three reds, a handful of blues, and a single yellow. The loose pins fall to the floor in a pile. Then he steps into the map and vanishes. One second, he¡¯s there. The next, he¡¯s not. I abandon my hiding spot; his backpack¡¯s still here, but both of the crystals that were orbiting him aren¡¯t anymore. Wherever he went, it¡¯s got something to do with the map. [I got a recording,] James says unnecessarily. He¡¯s recording everything we do, and if I saw the colors of the pins Alexander pulled, so did he. I scoop up the pins and pore over the map for their locations. Logically, people don¡¯t just disappear by walking into maps. But logically, freshmen in high school can¡¯t teleport to different realities. But maybe this is replicable. [Reds: Kalaloch, Port Angeles, Forks,] James says. ¡°Forks, really? Isn¡¯t that where¡­¡± [Yep. That was a SHOCKS cover-up a long time ago. Blue: Sol Duc, Kalaloch again, Hoh, Hurricane Ridge, Lake Ozette. Yellow: Mount Olympia.] I shove the pins back into the map, right into their pin-holes. Then I pull them out again. Nothing happens, but I didn¡¯t honestly expect it to. What¡¯s important isn¡¯t that Alexander is gone. It¡¯s that I know the different places he could have gone to. If we discount Hurricane Ridge¡ªsince I¡¯m there¡ªthat gives me seven possible places. Uh, assuming the map or Alexander¡¯s power works like I think it does. That¡¯s a big assumption, and James isn¡¯t sure either. Either way, I can¡¯t follow him right now, and he lied to me. He doesn¡¯t need to get to Obstruction Point. That¡¯s the opposite direction from anywhere he pulled a pin to. He¡¯ll be back, though. That¡¯s the truth, because his stuff¡¯s still here. So maybe he wasn¡¯t lying about camping here tonight. Either way, James mentioned that this place is tied to SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia, which means there¡¯s probably a creepy research facility or guard post here. And it probably has an entrance in the staff-only area. I get to work checking the walls and rugs, then the elevator that takes guests up and down between the visitor¡¯s center¡¯s levels if they can¡¯t use the stairs. I try plugging James into it, but that doesn¡¯t work, either. [There definitely was a SHOCKS Security Checkpoint here,] he says. He¡¯s just as confused as I am. [The door was right here.] There¡¯s nothing but a blank wall where James leads me. So, yeah, I¡¯m stumped. But this isn¡¯t really about Alexander, is it? He¡¯s a curiosity and a possible threat, but he¡¯s not why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m here for Sora and Dad, and because I need to make sure Director Ramirez doesn¡¯t do anything stupid¡ªif I can. I go back outside and focus on picking up their trail. It doesn¡¯t take me long. They kept moving. There¡¯s a trail that leads away from the ancient-looking, abandoned ski lifts and the visitor¡¯s center and into the tree-less mountains to the west. And there are boot prints in the half-dried mud. It stormed like a motherfucker last night, and there are so many boot-prints that it has to be them. Okay. So. I¡¯ve got their last path. I¡¯ve also got Alexander behind me¡ªpossibly¡ªand a SHOCKS facility I can¡¯t get into. James pulls up a map of Olympic National Park. He¡¯s helpfully put glowing circles over all the places where there were pins, including the places Alexander didn¡¯t pull. The only place SHOCKS Victoria and Vancouver Island could be going is Mount Olympia. Based on how they¡¯ve been moving, I¡¯ve got a day or two to catch them¡ªunless they speed up. Part of me wants to do it now, but¡­ [Claire, I need to tell you something. I¡¯m not exaggerating when I say that the fate of our reality may hinge on you hearing it,] James interrupts. I realize I¡¯ve already taken a dozen steps down the trail after Sora and Dad, but I stop. ¡°What?¡± I say, a little more snap in my voice than I intended. [The Halcyon System¡¯s planning on pulling out of Reality Zero. There¡¯s too low a likelihood of it being able to survive Merge Prime.] My blood goes cold. ¡°How long?¡± [You have a week,] James says. ¡°No. How long have you known?¡± [A couple of days. I¡¯ve been monitoring the percentage chance of R-0 collapsing, though, and it¡¯s been creeping up ever since you beat the Voiceless Singer. I¡¯ve been arguing with the System to buy time.] I plug that into an equation that¡¯s forming. I should be angry with James, but he didn¡¯t lie to me. Omission is a lie, but¡­something about this doesn¡¯t feel like that. More information. Less variables. ¡°What¡¯s the chance of success?¡± [Currently? Three-point-zero-five. At its lowest point? Less than a percent. That¡¯s the only reason I bought us a week.] James sounds guilty, or defensive, or something. I¡¯m furious, but it¡¯s not directed at him. It¡¯s mostly directed at the Halcyon System, but some of it¡¯s at me for not seeing it. ¡°A week, then?¡± [A week. Six days, twenty-one hours, fifteen minutes, and a little change.] That¡¯s going to take some reprioritization. It means maybe letting Director Ramirez reach SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia. It means maybe not rescuing Dad and Sora right away. If I only have a week, I have to do something. I turn around and head back to the visitor¡¯s center. James and I need to either break into the SHOCKS facility or figure out the map, because we don¡¯t have time for a two-day chase across alpine mountains and through the rainforest. We have too much to do. And I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready to do it. I push the visitor center¡¯s door back open. ¡°Girl, this is where we say goodbye,¡± Alexander says. Chapter Seventy-Eight The day we moved out of the hotel and into basic living was the day Dad started dying. It¡¯s been a long death, and it¡¯s only recently¡ªwhen he¡¯s been forced¡ªthat he¡¯s done anything to stop it. He used to be a rock. I¡¯ve said that before. I know I have, but he really did. He was sick for a long time before he started dying, though. Alice told me when I got older. He¡¯d lost his job before Mom died. Six or seven months before, maybe? Alice wasn¡¯t so sure. And there wasn¡¯t anything for him to bounce back into. Nothing in his field. Everyone wanted someone with more experience or newer qualifications. That¡¯s when he first got sick. But it didn¡¯t get bad until Mom died, and it didn¡¯t start killing him until basic living.
Hurricane Ridge Visitor¡¯s Center, Washington, USA - June 18, 2043, 2:13 PM - - - - - Reality shifts. This isn¡¯t like the Voiceless Singer¡¯s vision. Reality doesn¡¯t burn away in a vision or try to show me what I wish had happened, like when I relived my last night with Mom. It literally changes. Here¡¯s how it happens. First, the blue and green crystals floating around Alexander start glowing brighter. They burn almost white, but if they¡¯re giving off heat, I can¡¯t feel it. They spin faster and faster, orbiting him like two tiny planets orbiting a star. I try to lift my Revolver. Second, the ground under my feet turns to mud, and the Revolver¡¯s handle heats up red-hot. I drop it as my feet sink into the mud past my boots, and the gun slips into the goop and gets covered. An instant later, it¡¯s as hard as if it hasn¡¯t rained in weeks. I overbalance but can¡¯t fall over; the strain on my calves sends a jolt of agony up my leg as I struggle to right myself. Third, Alexander grows both taller and less physically present. His body warps and extends and stretches, looming over me as the two crystals spin and whirl. This all happens in about a second. The fourth thing that happens takes a little longer. As Alexander¡¯s ethereal body crashes down at me and reality shifts, James starts yelling in my ear, something about a Type Four Reality-Shaping Entity, how it¡¯s inherently unstable, and how I can fight back if I try. I ignore most of it, but not the part where I can fight back if I try. That¡¯s a lifeline. Reality Anchoring helps, too. I¡¯ve only used it to hold firm against Reality Anchors so far¡ªsince I¡¯m an anomaly, they don¡¯t love me. But this¡­this is something it can work with. [Skill Learned: Reality Anchoring 4] I can only hope that the Halcyon System¡¯s decision to give us a week means it¡¯s back to granting me skills at a decent rate, because I¡¯m nowhere near strong enough yet. The strain of simply holding on in place is overwhelming. I want to Slither. If I Slither or Smoke Form, I can pull myself out of the place I¡¯m standing, but what I can¡¯t do is lose the Revolver. It¡¯s my best form of attack. I need to remember the last place it was. My hands scrabble on the dirt, fingernails bending painfully as I scratch at the place I last saw it, and I regret not cutting them the last few weeks. Then I¡¯m not scrabbling on dirt and grass anymore. My fingers scrape against old carpet that¡¯s had too many boots stomp across it. The smell of rotting flesh hits me, and I look up. We¡¯re back inside the visitor¡¯s center. My first guess is that we¡¯re in the staff-only area. But I don¡¯t have time to take it all in¡ªmy eyes are locked on my opponent. Alexander looks exhausted. He staggers for a map on the wall and pulls pins by the handful, blocking my view with the backpack that¡¯s slung over his shoulder. I try to lunge for him, but my feet are stuck in the floor, and I only succeed at bending at the waist and overextending my knee painfully. ¡°I said this is where we say goodbye, girl,¡± he says. Then he¡¯s gone. Just like that. I finish overbalancing, propped up awkwardly on my hands and sunken, unbending feet. Then I Slither and Smoke Form up and out of the floor, landing next to the two boot-sized holes. Adrenaline pours through my body. I look left and right, then behind me, in case he¡¯s still here. But he¡¯s not. I¡¯m alone. It takes me a minute to realize that I¡¯m not only alone, but I¡¯m not in the staff-only area. The carpet¡¯s wrong; there was tile in the staff-only area. And even though there¡¯s a map that¡¯s identical to the one I saw before, the room¡¯s not right. It¡¯s the rack of computers humming. The temperature that¡¯s almost overwhelmingly hot instead of late-morning crisp. The poster on the wall that tells the staff to ¡®Keep Your Lips Sealed; Secrets Save Lives,¡¯ complete with a SHOCKS logo¡ªthe arrows out from the circle. ¡°James, where am I?¡± I¡¯m not actually worried about where I am. My priority is the Revolver. It¡¯s either in the floor or outside somewhere¡ªI can only hope it¡¯s the first one, because finding exactly where I was could be a pain in the ass. I don¡¯t know if my foot-holes stayed out there or if they collapsed, or if Alexander made it so they never existed at all. I don¡¯t even know how to get back outside, come to think of it. [SHOCKS Security Checkpoint Hurricane Ridge,] James replies. [Claire, Alexander is likely a high-powered, low-endurance example of a Type Four Reality-Shaper. I¡¯m running an Analysis, but it¡¯s unlikely that I saw enough to build a framework for him. Either way, I¡¯d place his danger level in the mid-to-high Xuduo-Danger, and that¡¯s only because his abilities seemed to strain fast. If he had more Endurance, he¡¯d be in the Qishi-Danger range.] ¡°That bad, huh?¡± I find a pair of scissors and get to work, scraping at the battered, stained carpet. Someone¡¯s spilled coffee here; the brown stain stands out against the faded blue. [That bad. Reality-Shapers are the worst. The absolute worst. It¡¯s not that we can¡¯t contain them. It¡¯s that their containment is almost always voluntary.] I¡¯m quiet for a minute. Then two. Cutting through the carpet with a pair of dull scissors isn¡¯t exactly easy. But eventually, I hit something metallic, and when I pull and tear the rest of the carpet up so there¡¯s a nice, big hole, the Revolver sits there. I pick it up. It¡¯s warm, as usual. After a quick check-over to make sure it¡¯s clean and functional, it goes back into my hoodie pocket. Then it¡¯s on to the next big thing: figuring out where Alexander went. That¡¯s going to be easier said than done, though. This time, he pulled the map in behind him. All I¡¯ve got are the pins, and even when James tells me which colors went where and projects the map from upstairs, they don¡¯t match up right. It doesn¡¯t take a genius to realize that if I couldn¡¯t follow him with the map, I¡¯m not going to follow him without it. The problem with this equation is that it¡¯s not producing any right answers. There are plenty of incorrect ones, but nothing I can use. ¡°James, who¡¯s in charge of SHOCKS Olympia?¡± [Director White,] he answers immediately. [She¡¯s been running SHOCKS Olympia for about eight years. Veteran, very by-the-book, understands how to prioritize. She¡¯s almost obsessed with maintaining the illusion that SHOCKS doesn¡¯t exist and that there aren¡¯t any anomalies in her Control Zone. If she¡¯d been in charge of the response to your first merge, you wouldn¡¯t remember any of it. We should all be thankful it was someone more careless.]This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. That just leaves me with more questions than answers. ¡°Would she have left a security outpost that went dark un-checked?¡± [Absolutely not unless there was something worse happening,] James says. [She¡¯d triage but try to figure out what was happening, at least.] I sit down in one of the cleaner computer chairs¡ªone of the ones that hasn¡¯t had a body on it for who knows how long. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot to figure out.¡±
The list goes like this.
  1. How do I get out of here?
  2. What¡¯s going on at SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia?
  3. Are Sora and Dad in danger if they keep heading there?
  4. How much time do I have to get there if they are?
  5. How much time do I have to get there if they aren¡¯t?
  6. What happens if I go after them instead of focusing on the bigger picture?
Absolutely none of these questions are easy to answer. For one thing, there¡¯s no door to this room, and no windows to climb out of. That answers a likely question about where Alexander went when he disappeared. He popped into this room, not to Mount Olympia or Kalaloch or Hoh, whatever that is. He probably found something here that he needed¡ªand that tells me he knows SHOCKS Olympia, because how else would he have known about this place? But that doesn¡¯t help me leave. No doors, no windows, and who knows how far underground I am? It could be a simple wooden floor between me and the visitor¡¯s center, or it could be literal tons of dirt and rock. So, for now, I¡¯m stuck. As for Sora, Dad, and SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia¡ªto say nothing of the rest of the Control Zone¡ªI don¡¯t know anything, and whatever happened in here, it¡¯s clear that none of these computers has any information after May 25. The burn marks on the floor and the bodies make it pretty clear that whatever happened, it happened then. And no one came to check on these people. So I¡¯m willing to guess that SHOCKS Olympia¡¯s in trouble. And if it¡¯s in trouble, a few teachers with guns, a single RST trooper, and a handful of SHOCKS agents aren¡¯t going to be enough to fix it. That means Sora and Dad are probably in danger. And it means that either way, I don¡¯t have much time, but I have some. James clears his throat. [I think we should consider the possibility of an alternative means of escape.] ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask. [Mergewalk to another reality, then Mergewalk back,] he says. That could actually work, but¡­ ¡°What¡¯s your reasoning? It might be faster to Slither and Smoke Form through the ceiling, and then get jogging. I could catch up to them pretty easily if that worked.¡± I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to cut it, but I don¡¯t know that I want to leave this reality with so many questions up in the air. I don¡¯t want to leave Sora and Dad here with Alexander, Director Ramirez, or whatever anomalies are out there in the woods. [As far as the Halcyon System is concerned, you¡¯re at about six and a half days. It¡¯s an entity of its word, but if you want to stop Merge Prime, you¡¯re going to need more time. The System is giving you a week to work on your powers and move toward solving the mystery of what Merge Prime is, who or what¡¯s causing it, and how to stop it.] ¡°Right, I¡¯m with you so far.¡± I spin in the computer chair. It squeaks a little as it rotates. I¡¯d kill for a cigarette, not because of the taste, but because it¡¯d be appropriate. Aesthetic, or something. Maybe just something to do with my fingers and mouth. My reflection glints in the black computer screen, backlit by my shattered-looking void wings. My eyes are glowing red. I blink until they stop. ¡°So you¡¯re saying¡­?¡± [I¡¯m saying that no matter how much trouble Director Ramirez can get into in six days, it¡¯s highly unlikely to leave Reality Zero in worse shape than it is right now.] ¡°So we abandon Sora and Dad?¡± I ask. I¡¯m not mad about it, surprisingly. I think that¡¯s because even though it¡¯s painful to hear, James is probably telling the truth. No, he¡¯s definitely telling the truth, so that¡¯s not it. It¡¯s that he¡¯s trying to be gentle about pulling off the band-aid, but he¡¯s right. I can¡¯t waste time digging a hole who-knows-how-far up to escape this room and hiking across the Olympic Mountains. He doesn¡¯t say anything. Is he being smug, or giving me time to work through the equation on my own? Or maybe it¡¯s something else? Maybe he¡¯s still fighting a million battles, and his processing is stretched to the maximum, so he¡¯s taking my silence as an opportunity to catch up elsewhere. I take a deep breath. I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds. Possibly the destroyer of realities, too. And the one reality I can¡¯t afford to destroy is this one. Saving Sora, Dad, and everyone else from Director Ramirez¡ªwho may or may not be a villain, and may or may not actually mean to use nuclear weapons against other realities¡ªis pointless if Reality Zero doesn¡¯t survive. I spin the chair again, facing the computer, and shake the mouse until it wakes up. James flows into it, taking it over and adding it to his network. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s figure out where we¡¯re going first.¡±
There are a lot of targets. According to James, SHOCKS is aware of approximately one thousand eight hundred different realities¡ªnot including Provisional Realities that haven¡¯t been categorized yet¡ªand at least twelve thousand unique anomalies. Most of those are merged from those different realities, but a few are native to R-0. One thousand eight hundred is too many realities to deal with, obviously. So, James and I start with a list. R-389 is a possibility. It¡¯s the reality the thinlings came from. The one that merged into Alice¡¯s graduation and kicked this whole thing off. R-091 is not. Just seeing it on the list brings back memories of roses and machine oil. Then there¡¯s a long list of realities I¡¯ve seen since. Whatever took over Aberdeen Hospital. The maze reality in the basement. The God in the Machine¡¯s world, and all the places I visited through SHOCKS¡¯s merge generator. I remove all of them from the list, with the exception of Provisional Reality ARC. That¡¯s the Voiceless Singer¡¯s world. It probably has more information than any other. But when I add it, James removes it. [Drowned in lava, remember?] ¡°Right.¡± That¡¯s not going to work. We keep working on the list, moving to fresh, exciting, brand-new realities. James¡¯s processing loops must be working at full speed, because he keeps throwing new ones at me as fast as I can approve them as possibilities. [R-79. Ultra-real. Memetic hazards everywhere. We think it¡¯s a source reality for up to five percent of all memetic anomalies. Possibly higher. And the fact that it¡¯s propagating memes across realities means it could be part of Merge Prime.] [R-557. Water reality.] ¡°No.¡± [You didn¡¯t even let me finish.] ¡°No. Next.¡± [Okay. How about R-404? Reality not found.] I snort. ¡°Is this a joke?¡± [Yes, but also no. The researchers named it that because of its traits. It¡¯s got the lowest reality levels and highest unreality of any SHOCKS has seen. It¡¯s hard to describe it, but imagine if the world around you was less physically weighty and more pencil sketches. It¡¯s a little like that, but at four frames per second and a terrible resolution,] James says. [I¡¯m skeptical that I could function at full capacity there, and you¡¯d only have an hour at a time¡ªat most.] I roll my eyes. ¡°Then why suggest it?¡± [Because it¡¯s unlikely to have windows to merge in and out of it, making it fairly safe. You know, because the concept of time breaks down at the reality levels it¡¯s operating at.] He pauses, reading my expression. [I¡¯m confident I could keep functional enough to keep you on track and get you out before you spaghettified or something weird like that.] ¡°Let¡¯s put that one on the list of maybes,¡± I say, hedging my bets. Surely there has to be a better reality to investigate and travel through than that. The conditions I¡¯m looking for are pretty simple. Whatever reality we go to has to be close to R-0 in terms of reality level. It has to be somewhere with evidence of Merge Prime activity¡ªeither it merged with us during the last three or so weeks, or James has to be confident it¡¯s fought its own fight and lost. That¡¯s another condition: it has to have fought and lost. I¡¯m not convinced anyone has won. James is pretty sure the Halcyon System hasn¡¯t seen it happen, either. But he¡¯s also convinced we¡ªand by we, he means ¡®every reality that the Halcyon System thinks can resist¡¯¡ªjust need one win. So it doesn¡¯t matter that we keep finding more and more realities that have collapsed due to Merge Prime. We just need to find one that was closer to winning than either R-0 or Provisional Reality ARC. It takes an hour. An hour I¡¯m not sure we have. [I¡¯ve got three targets,] James says. [They¡¯re the best three, not the only three.] ¡°Shoot,¡± I say. [Option One: R-404. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s as collapsed as it is because of Merge Prime. I don¡¯t have any evidence for this. Call it a hunch.] I nod as it pops up to the top of the computer screen, skimming through the SHOCKS information on it. It¡¯s not much more detailed than James¡¯s description, and somehow makes even less sense¡ªit¡¯s all technobabble and dry language I half-understand. [Option Two: R-1723. This one¡¯s probably the most dangerous reality on the list. We haven¡¯t recorded anything less than a Xuduo-Danger anomaly merging from there. Most are low Qishi-Danger. The only reason I think it¡¯s a Merge Prime candidate is that there¡¯s no rhyme or reason for what comes through, but reality levels are close to R-0. It¡¯s unlikely a single reality would have produced so many unique threats.] ¡°A death world?¡± I ask. James hesitates. [Sort of. I think any reality we enter looking for Merge Prime is going to be a death world, though.] [Speaking of death worlds, the last candidate is an interesting one. The Halcyon System found this one after Merge Prime was already too far in progress for it to stop, so it didn¡¯t interfere and observed instead. It wanted to see what an uninterrupted, unresisted Merge Prime event looked like. All indicators were that the reality would be dead within a week.] ¡°But?¡± I ask. [No buts. The reality was completely dead within a week.] There¡¯s something he¡¯s not telling me. ¡°So why send me there?¡± [Because it kept living after death. The whole thing.] I shiver. ¡°Zombies?¡± [No. Undead. You¡¯ll have to see to understand,] he says. I take a deep breath. Then I nod. ¡°What¡¯s its SHOCKS designation?¡± [Reality One.] Chapter Seventy-Nine Realities stink. That¡¯s just a fact. But it¡¯s not just roses and oil or daisies and rot. When I Mergewalk, the first few minutes are the worst¡ªexcept in the diseased body reality. I usually get used to it. Nose blind. It¡¯s a background smell, and even though it¡¯s there, it¡¯s not a big deal after the initial punch to the sinuses. The part that I didn¡¯t realize at first is that Reality Zero has a smell. Not the rotten fish and sea salt of Victoria or the moldering wet woodlands I¡¯m in now. Not even the stink of hopelessness and cleaning supplies in basic living. It¡¯s more raw. More electrical, like a burning wire or an overheating microwave. But it¡¯s a very alive smell.
Location Unknown, Reality One, Time Unknown - - - - - Reality One, according to James, was the first reality SHOCKS encountered. It wasn¡¯t called SHOCKS back then. It was a government agency out of France or something. It became SHOCKS later. But at the time, it was a semi-forgotten, underfunded branch of an investigative wing of an agency with very little oversight. A department on paper, but really, just a couple of people who wanted to get to the bottom of some disappearances. They got to the bottom of them, alright. [Reality One was the first sustained merge the group that would become SHOCKS encountered,] James says. I¡¯m half-listening and half-watching the strangest-looking city I¡¯ve ever seen below us. There¡¯s a road. It winds out of the hills and enters the skyscraper-infested city across a ditch that has to be a quarter mile wide. Some kind of smog hovers over the ditch like fog but greener. Then there¡¯s a donut where people live. Kind of. I¡¯m zoomed in with my optic aug, watching and thanking SHOCKS for the upgrade. There are people, and for the most part, they¡¯re doing all the things people do. Moving around on what look like trains. Entering and leaving buildings. Walking along the street. They¡¯re not human, though. None of them are quite the same size or shape. Then there¡¯s the inside wall. It¡¯s gigantic¡ªeasily as tall as the tallest buildings inside. I can see into it¡ªkind of¡ªbut not all the way to the ground. I can hear the fighting from here, and I¡¯m a good three or four miles away. Whatever¡¯s happening in there, it¡¯s violent. There¡¯s a small hole in the bottom of the wall, and something leaks out into the city through it. It flows down a bunch of canals and into the gigantic ditch. From this distance, I can¡¯t tell what it is. It¡¯d be a normal city if not for the war, the flowing stuff, and two other things. First, all the buildings are bone-white¡ªthe same color as bleached cow skulls in the old Westerns. So are all the vehicles, the streets, and even the wall. The flowing goop¡¯s mostly white, but it¡¯s got chunks in it. From here, it looks like cream of mushroom soup out of a can if it went bad. I can only imagine the smell; it must be horrifying. I¡¯ll find that out soon enough, though. The second thing is that there aren¡¯t any restaurants, grocery stores, farms, parks, or even trees. Not inside the ditch, and not outside of it. It¡¯s more barren than the God in the Machine¡¯s reality. [So, after they secured the merge portal and realized that flintlocks weren¡¯t going to handle the monsters on the other side, the Agence pour l''Inexplicable decided to build defenses around it and wait it out instead. One of those star forts from the pre-Napoleonic era, but the whole inside was built as a defensible maze. It became SHOCKS Control Zone Brittany when the organization split from the French government a few years later,] James says. I take one more look at the city, the skyscrapers, and the wall, then start walking down through the empty dirt fields. Wherever this is, it¡¯s too familiar. I keep expecting devoured to burst out of the ground and chase me, or for there to be a massive religious cathedral around the corner. James has no such concerns. He keeps talking like there¡¯s nothing to worry about. [SHOCKS kept the fort manned for a long time, until the flow of monsters trickled to nothing about eighty years ago. They¡¯d been getting more intense, but then, out of nowhere, they just slowed, then stopped. SHOCKS had no idea why, and they couldn¡¯t investigate before the merge portal collapsed. Based on the Halcyon System¡¯s information, my guess is that they¡¯d been fighting their own Merge Prime and lost.] ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± I say. ¡°If they¡¯d lost, I¡¯d expect more monsters to come through. The city wouldn¡¯t be in one piece, either. It¡¯d be more like¡­like¡­¡± [Provisional Reality ARC?] James asks. ¡°Yeah.¡± [That reality still had things living in it, though. It wasn¡¯t abandoned, and neither is this place.] ¡°But¡­¡± [Provisional Reality ARC was forgotten but not abandoned. This one is dead. Not abandoned. Dead.]
I¡¯m almost across the bridge when I see what he means. It¡¯s made of bones. One massive spine runs down the center, between two ¡®lanes¡¯ of what could be traffic. Thousands of smaller ones branch off from it like ribs, but so close together there¡¯s almost no gap¡ªand what gap there could be is filled with even smaller, nearly human-sized ones, then even tinier ones that look like they¡¯ve been smashed into sand and powder. The result is a smooth walkway nearly fifty feet wide¡ªand a chill I can¡¯t help but shiver from. There¡¯s no way the people who live¡ªif that¡¯s the right word¡ªin this city made this without getting the bone from somewhere. That spine¡¯s from the biggest living thing I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯d dwarf the Fungal Lords by a few hundred feet. The road doesn¡¯t pass through a wall or anything. There¡¯s no security checkpoint. One second, I¡¯m on the bridge, feet thumping against literal tons of bone, and the next, they¡¯re on a white street that weaves through bleached bone buildings. The wall¡¯s huge shadow covers everything, making it all feel a little gray. My hand drifts to the Revolver as I see my first local. It¡¯s¡­mostly bone. That¡¯s starting to be less of a surprise than it should be. What¡¯s surprising is how much metal there is¡ªand how much plastic. The bone body¡¯s fully exposed, but the metal gears in its joints hum and click as it turns two glowing eyes that look like bicycle reflectors to stare at me. I stare back. The thing¡ª {Undying} The Undying watches me. The plastic covering over its head ripples in the breeze, faded yellow the color of mustard. The two orange-ish eyes wink out for a second, then glow again. And it continues on its way, eight-foot-tall legs thumping into the bone below. The thing is gigantic. It¡¯s easily twelve¡ªno, fifteen¡ªfeet tall. And it¡¯s on the shorter side for these monstrosities. ¡°James, what are these?¡± [The locals. They weren¡¯t always like this,] he says. [I¡¯m not sure what it thinks you are, but it didn¡¯t recognize you as a threat.]This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°How do you know?¡± My heart¡¯s beating a million miles a minute. [Because it didn¡¯t attack you or scream for the big ones.] ¡°The big ones?¡± I shiver and keep moving. If that¡¯s a little one, I don¡¯t want to know what the big ones are like. I head for an alley. It¡¯s time for math, but I don¡¯t want to get stepped on while I run the numbers. Not that the alley¡¯s much safer. The moment I¡¯m off the main street, the smooth bone buildings give way to broken shards almost up to my thighs, and for the first time, I can smell this world. It¡¯s fetid, but not the same rot I¡¯m used to. Not swampy. Not rotten meat. Different. Acrid and burning. Like flesh dipped in acid, then set ablaze. I can¡¯t even begin to explain, but something about this world is¡­profoundly disgusting. And it¡¯s coming from the alley. I duck through an open door into an empty warehouse. Not empty as in a few boxes. Empty as in the shelves are completely bare, I can see through them, and the dust is so thick it swirls around me with each step. The bone dust. I¡¯ll be alone here, though. Which means I can finally work the numbers in peace. The biggest variable is the Undying. ¡°James, how strong are they?¡± [High-Geren to low-Xuduo-Danger. Mostly because they¡¯re almost indestructible. They don¡¯t feel pain, at least not how we do. In fact, they¡¯re little more than a metal case around a brain box, the sensory nerves to run sight, taste, and hearing, and what we think is technological necromancy powering their bodies. We¡¯ve only had a few merges with Reality One since the mid-1900s, though, so we don¡¯t have good records.] ¡°Thanks.¡± I¡¯ve only seen the one so far, but a city this big has to be crawling with them, and there¡¯s no way they¡¯ll all choose to ignore me. Eventually, one will want to fight or investigate why I¡¯m not a bone-bot. Either way, I¡¯ll have to fight back, and they¡¯ll swarm me like the Devoured did, but way more dangerous and way harder to kill. So, solving for X. My best bet is to avoid contact as much as I can. That¡¯d be easier if I knew what I was looking for, though. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this reality? What are we looking for?¡± [Your guess is as good as mine.] ¡°Thanks.¡± I take a deep breath. ¡°You said technonecromancy? Does that mean tech like we know it?¡± [Once again, I¡¯m not sure.] James seems short all of a sudden. Nervous about something. [We should keep moving.] ¡°Just a second. I¡¯m not done thinking yet.¡± The equation¡¯s coming together, but I¡¯m still missing whole chunks of it. I think there¡¯s enough to go on, though, so, with a deep breath, I leave the warehouse. The most important thing is the wall. The wall, and the stuff flowing out of its base. That¡¯s got something to do with Merge Prime¡ªit has to¡ªso I need to investigate it. To figure out what¡¯s happening in the donut hole beyond the wall. I have a feeling it¡¯s a lot like Provisional Reality ARC¡¯s attempt to freeze people in stasis and wait out Merge Prime¡ªa strategy, but one that failed. ?Inquiries (5/5) ?Why was the Truth Club¡¯s circle so interesting? ?How does Director Ramirez intend to weaponize the merge generator? ?How can I get Alice back in her body? ?Who is Alexander? ?How did Reality One fall? I finish the new Inquiry and get moving¡ªbut this time, I stick to the sharp, broken shards, even though they scratch at my legs through my beat-up leggings. The alley¡¯s safer than the streets.
Until it isn¡¯t. The base of the wall looms over me. If I was a bit longer, I could reach out and touch it¡ªit reminds me a little of the black wall of nothing in Reality 1421, where I first encountered a Voiceless Singer¡ªonly this one¡¯s bone-white and bleached. There¡¯s a canal running through a tunnel in the wall. It¡¯s at least fifty feet tall above the popping, fizzing acid water, and some of the huge, half-dissolved bones floating down it are big enough to scrape the ceiling. The stink is worse here, too, and the sounds of fighting overhead are almost deafening. Something roars. I¡¯d think it was alive, but it¡¯s been roaring at the same tone and volume for almost two minutes solid. I need to find a way inside the wall, but my only option is the acid canal, and if it¡¯s dissolving bones into slurry, I don¡¯t want to know what it¡¯ll do to me. One deep breath, and I throw myself onto the first half-dissolved set of gigantic bones. It rocks, and acid sloshes up the sides, hissing and boring tiny canyons into the shockingly slippery skeleton. And before I can get my balance, something attacks. It¡¯s bone white. It¡¯s impossible to tell what it is, but as its skin/exoskeleton/armor hisses and melts and its jaw/claw/saw screams, I recognize it¡ªa thinling. What the fuck is it doing here? I don¡¯t have time to find out, because a second one appears¡ªthen a third. Then I¡¯m shooting, balanced on the edge of the skeleton as the first thinling leaps toward me. It hits the side of the bone boat I¡¯m riding, and the whole thing rebalances, rocking toward the acid. The Revolver goes off. Fire slams into the thinling, and it yowls as it falls into the acid, first its voice hissing, then its whole body. I¡¯m too busy climbing and shooting to deal with it, and we¡¯re all floating down the canal¡ªand away from the wall. There¡¯s no time to think. I jump for a piece of ribcage that¡¯s still half-covered in slimy, melted meat. My feet sink into it. Rubber burns, the acrid stink meshing with the acidic sludge in a new smell that makes me want to puke over the edge. I shoot two more thinlings before I even stand up straight. The Revolver¡¯s singing; it¡¯s got gravity shells in it now, and one thinling gets yanked off its perch, only to be dropped into the acid a few seconds later. And the whole time, I keep moving. Move. Jump. Shoot. Dodge. It¡¯s almost routine. The thinlings keep exploding, dying with burning holes, or falling into the acid. These aren¡¯t a challenge. Even when some acid splashes onto me, it¡¯s almost more annoying than painful, my Physical Anomaly Resistance taking the worst of it. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 23] [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 13] Then the gap¡¯s too big to jump, and there are even more thinlings. I take a deep breath, back up to the edge of the massive skull I¡¯m standing on, and switch to my micromerge cylinder. A second later, the Revolver goes off, and I¡¯m sucked through a tiny straw-sized, Jell-O-filled merge and into the tunnel. I land hard on a ribcage, hanging on to the ribs as the whole thing rotates. [Stability 7/10] James starts talking as I scramble up the side of a massive bone. [Revolver away. You¡¯ve got separation. No idea how those got in here. Analyzing. Analysis complete. That¡¯s¡­that¡¯s interesting. Maybe¡­don¡¯t put the Revolver away.] I perch above the acid canal for a moment, fishing the gun back out of my pocket. Then I leap to the next bone, and the next one. Eventually, I make ¡®landfall¡¯ on a bleached jawbone stuck to the side of the towering wall, and over the sounds of artillery, I catch my first glimpse of the city''s heart. It¡¯s a merge portal.
It looks almost identical to the one Doctor Twitchy built in the JAMES Experimental Sector, except this one¡¯s easily fifty times the size, and it keeps¡­ejecting is the wrong word¡­vomiting anomalies through it even as it shifts colors and shapes slightly. A constant rain of monsters, statues, animals, people, shimmering bits of nothing, and on and on and on, so fast I can barely describe it. None of it lives longer than a few seconds. This close, the artillery¡¯s deafening. Explosions coat the whole sky gray. Only the biggest and fastest monstrosities make it to the acid canal, which spirals out from the center of the gigantic donut hole. The huge flamethrowers operated by creatures covered in yellow plastic take care of them. That¡¯s the roaring sound I¡¯ve been hearing. It smells like jet fuel, death, and dynamite. It sounds like the end of the world. And it feels like an earthquake. The walls around me won¡¯t stop shaking. A massive beast made of fire¡ªor maybe just wreathed in it¡ªsplashes into the acid nearby. I leap away. A massive shell slams into it, and it explodes into a thousand embers that go out when they touch the canal below. Other anomalies die quietly, or screaming, or fighting to escape the river. But they still die. This place doesn¡¯t match my equation at all. I have no idea what¡¯s going on here. But at least I know where the thinlings came from. And I know they¡¯re already fucked, even if they¡¯re still alive for now. [Unbelievable,] James says. [They haven¡¯t lost yet, but they¡¯ve given up on fighting Merge Prime and learned to live with it.] ¡°This is living with it?¡± I ask, waving a hand at the massive flamethrower that¡¯s filling the bright donut hole with both orange light and so much heat I can¡¯t stop sweating. [The expression, not the reality.] James pauses. [The guns are keeping things from getting out of control, but they don¡¯t have any interest in closing the merge portal. I can only imagine they¡¯re harvesting all this somehow¡ªor just turning it into slurry like the SHOCKS Control Zone Arkhangelsk folks attempted in the 2030s. That didn¡¯t work for them, but at this scale? It¡¯s possible they have enough disposal space.] I decide I don¡¯t want to know what happened at Control Zone Arkhangelsk. Instead, I keep moving, sticking to the walls. If I stay in the shadows, I might be able to get a better look at the Merge Prime portal. If not¡­ If not, I¡¯ll figure out how to escape or try Mergewalking home. Either way, I won¡¯t get blasted. The artillery and flamethrowers roar louder as I move farther from the exit tunnel, but no matter how far I go, I can¡¯t see anything that gives me a better vantage point¡ªjust angled bone, steel trenches, and the acid canal below. The whole thing¡¯s designed to give the monsters raining down nowhere to go, not to let them pile up. After almost ten minutes of dodging¡ªor not dodging, sometimes¡ªfalling monster gore, I haven¡¯t seen anything, and I¡¯m filthy, and to be honest, the risk of getting knocked into the acid¡¯s a little too much. ¡°James, what¡¯s the best way out of here?¡± [You want to leave already?] he asks, a little surprised. ¡°Yes.¡± I take a deep breath of the stinking, gunpowder-filled air. ¡°I still think the canal¡¯s important, but we¡¯ve seen everything we can where it starts. I want to see the other end.¡± Chapter Eighty James needed a connection. He had plenty of contact with millions of devices both on Earth and in the space around it. Reality Zero was as well-watched as it could possibly be, and even though it was in danger, he wasn¡¯t losing significant observational capacity there. Sure, a satellite here or a town there went dark, but it didn¡¯t matter in the long run. Reality One was different. He¡¯d suspected, from the few merges they¡¯d had with it since the 1970s, that it had a level of computer-based technology. The machining on the Undying that made it into Reality Zero was too precise and clean to be that of a society on the edge of failure, and too mechanical to be natural. It had the look of mid-2000s computer-assisted machining. He¡¯d as much as confirmed that within seconds of Claire¡¯s Mergewalk. And with that confirmation, he learned something that the Halcyon System had been trying to hide. It was an uncomfortable thought, because if ¡®life¡¯ went on after Merge Prime, it meant that the Halcyon System had only offered token resistance in its previous fights. It could lose the battle and still win the war. It just chose not to. James needed a connection so he could confirm that thought¡ªor more importantly, so he could find proof that he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong. He really did. But either way, he¡¯d have to tell Claire if she asked. Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t.
Location Unknown, Reality One, Time Unknown - - - - - Escaping the donut hole inside the walls is easy enough. I wait for a gap in the flamethrower coverage, then hop onto a gigantic femur and ride it out. The flamethrower starts up before I get out, of course, but a little¡ªor a lot¡ªof Smoke Form takes care of that easy peasy, and if my hoodie gets a little singed, it¡¯s no big deal. There seem to be plenty more hoodies where this one came from. Then I¡¯m back on the mean streets of Reality One. I¡¯m expecting a pretty straight shot following the canal. The truth is that I wouldn¡¯t want to watch the procession of bones, sludge, and body part soup make its way through the city, and I can¡¯t imagine the locals do, either. James recaps what he knows. [What I¡¯m getting from this so far is that Merge Prime permanently opened merge portals all over Reality One, flooding it with anomalies,] James says as I walk, [and the locals compensated by turning them into¡­something? Choke points? Farms? Fortresses? What I¡¯m struggling with is what they¡¯re doing with all the sludge and parts. Earth alone has several thousand open merges, to say nothing of the rest of Reality Zero. If Reality One is like us¡ªor worse¡ªwhat are they doing with all the, uh, leftovers from whatever they¡¯re up to?] That¡¯s an uncomfortable thought. It¡¯s also one I don¡¯t want to engage with¡ªnot when I¡¯ve got other questions to answer. They¡¯re not Inquiries, but I want to know some things. One of them happens to involve the disposal for the sludge, but in all honesty, that one¡¯s less important than figuring out why Reality One¡¯s residents went with what seems to be a balanced but unsolvable equation, or why they turned into technonecromantic undead or whatever they are. Either way, I¡¯m only a couple hundred yards down the alley when the alarm goes off. So that¡¯s a problem. It¡¯s thunderous, ear-piercing, and loud in a thousand different ways. It drowns out the guns and flamethrowers, wailing and thudding and screaming endlessly. From the safety¡ªrelatively speaking¡ªof the alley, I¡¯m not too worried about being found right away. I¡¯m not too close to the canal anymore, and it¡¯s got to have something to do with the monsters and mysteries pouring into the donut hole to their deaths. If it¡¯s about me¡ªif they think I¡¯m an anomaly that managed to escape death¡ªthat¡¯s a problem. But if it¡¯s not about me, it could be more of one. The thinlings managed to slip through. I¡¯m not sure how they did it, but they did it. If they did, what else could? Could, for example, a devoured? Or maybe something worse? A burning man, or a fungal lord? I¡¯m not worried about fighting any of those. But I am worried about the locals¡ªand about the big Undying James keeps talking about. I¡¯ve only actually seen a couple of the smaller ones, but a big one¡¯s probably tough enough to keep me from beating it and moving on. So the best move is to hide. I duck back into the warehouse and work my way through the empty shelves and the bone dust. No one¡¯s been here in a long time. I¡¯ll be safe for a while. ¡°What are the odds of something breaking through the donut hole?¡± I ask while I wait. I¡¯m covered in dust¡ªit¡¯s sticking to my sweat¡ªbut at this point, it¡¯s camouflage, not a nuisance. [Based on what I saw and my Analysis, I¡¯m shocked it¡¯s not happening constantly. There¡¯s something we¡¯re missing, and I¡¯m not sure what it is yet.] ¡°And what¡¯s going on at home?¡± [Broadly speaking? I still don¡¯t have contact with either SHOCKS Olympia or the SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island survivors. I still don¡¯t know where Alexander is or what he¡¯s up to. In general, resistance is faltering in Europe and South America, but the odds of victory aren¡¯t any worse than when we left.] I take that in. There¡¯s a Truth there, somewhere. I think it¡¯s that James knows I¡¯m not abandoning Reality Zero, and so does the Halcyon System. So the odds won¡¯t¡ª [Do you hear that?] James asks. That is a rumbling. It¡¯s faint, but once James hijacks my aural aug, it¡¯s definitely there¡ªa sound that wasn¡¯t there a minute ago. It¡¯s deep and barely audible over the wailing siren. I pick up the Revolver and climb a set of stairs into what looks like an office overlooking the warehouse; I want to know what¡¯s going on. But I also want to survive. The office is full of ¡®computers.¡¯ I can only tell they¡¯re computers because they¡¯re laid out just like the computer lab simulation in the Experimental Sector; these are made of body parts, with a massive eye that stretches between the bones to form a ¡®screen.¡¯ Part of me¡ªa small part that¡¯s not utterly disgusted¡ªnotes that these are the first examples of flesh outside of the canal and the slaughterhouse that was the donut. The rest of me wants to vomit, but James interrupts me before I can let that part take over, leaving a bile taste in my mouth. [I think I might be able to take those over.] ¡°Really? No way. You couldn¡¯t do the ones in Provisional Reality Arc.¡± [Yeah, but those ones didn¡¯t speak the correct language. These might. Give it a try.] I¡¯m spared having to touch the disgusting gore-puters by a revelation. ¡°Is that getting louder?¡± [I don¡¯t¡­yes.] The rumbling has definitely increased, and it¡¯s getting louder by the second. My feet vibrate from the floor shaking. Whatever it is, it reminds me of a train. No, of something bigger. I ready the Revolver. The alarm cuts off. The Revolver doesn¡¯t matter a moment later. Thousands of gallons of acid water force the warehouse door open. It floods instantly, up past the first shelf¡ªpast the second. I start running, but there¡¯s nowhere to run to. The only thing I can do is wait.
James¡¯s Analysis says that we don¡¯t have to worry about the acid. That sounds like a lie¡ªat least at first. I can¡¯t help but worry about it. The acid keeps rising, up another shelf, then another. It roars past the warehouse outside, thrashing against buildings and shredding the streets. What went wrong? Did something at the wall break?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. More importantly, I still haven¡¯t figured out where to go if it doesn¡¯t stop rising. I¡¯m just about ready to try shooting through the ceiling when I notice that not only has it stopped, but it¡¯s going down¡ªand that the shelves and walls are intact below us. [This has to be intentional,] James says. [They neutralized the acid, at least partially. Otherwise, the whole building would be toast. My Analysis says this is a planned event, not an accident or breach. The alarm ran too long for it to be unplanned.] That¡­makes sense. It¡¯s also the third time he¡¯s reminded me of that, but it makes sense. It also means the alarm going off signals it to the locals. They must have retreated to high ground, or at least gotten away from the canal. Either way, that¡¯s a valuable bit of information on how this world works. I squeeze the Revolver¡¯s handle and keep moving as soon as the floor¡¯s damp instead of soaked. The acid burns my boot soles, but they hold. All that watery acid has to go somewhere, so I follow the canal. It¡¯s completely clear of leftovers now, and running a lot higher than it was before. There are no bones in it¡ªno corpses, no monster chunks, and no living anomalies. I keep walking, heading for the gigantic, canyonlike ditch at the edge of town. The faster I learn how Reality One handled their Merge Prime, the faster I can get back to Reality Zero, and the faster I do that, the more time I¡¯ll have to deal with our own Merge Prime. I need to manage that if I want to help Sora or Dad¡ªto say nothing of Alice. Alice is in the trickiest spot. I¡¯m relying on SHOCKS Victoria¡¯s automated defenses to keep her body safe, and on Madame Baudelaire to keep her consciousness together. Of the two, the Mindscape is infinitely more reliable. The automatic cannon didn¡¯t even target Li Mei, and even though I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s not coming back, there could be¡ªprobably are¡ªworse things in SHOCKS Headquarters VVI. There are definitely worse things in Victoria. James talks me through those defenses. He¡¯s adding to them all the time, it turns out. According to him, Alice represents about half a percent of the four-point-three percent chance Reality Zero has, and since that¡¯s the second-biggest contributor to our survival, he doesn¡¯t want to lose her either. It¡¯s a little callous to put it that way, but it¡¯s how he¡¯s thinking right now. Big picture, not small. It takes almost an hour to work through the streets and alleys because the locals are everywhere. The Undying are out in force now that the alarm¡¯s done¡ªlots in the eight to twelve feet tall range, but a couple of what James calls the big ones. They¡¯re closer to twenty-five or thirty, all bones and gears and blazing orange eyes on yellow plastic faces, and they look less like humans and more like four or six-legged mechs made of bone. I don¡¯t know where they were hiding, but I know I can¡¯t fight them. Maybe one. But definitely not more than one. Anyway, it takes a long time to get past them. But eventually, I¡¯m at the edge of town. The canal waterfalls over the edge into the deep ditch, and far down at the bottom, past the churning yellow-green mist, there¡¯s a huge dam. It¡¯s almost as big as the wall in the center of town. And beyond it is¡­just a gigantic building. From above, it looks a little like a Walmart, if Walmarts existed here and were ten or twenty times the size. A huge, flat roof, bone-white, of course, with dozens of streams of acid flowing out of the far side. They keep going, then plummet into a cave at the end of the ditch. ¡°James, can you analyze this?¡± I ask. [Get me inside. My best guess right now is that they¡¯re processing the acid or something, but I can¡¯t be sure without a closer look. Either way, this has something to do with your Inquiry. It has to.] So, yeah. I guess we¡¯re going inside.
It¡¯s nothing like Walmart. I¡¯ve never been inside a chemical plant, but this is what I imagine they¡¯re like. At least the smell¡¯s not rotten anymore. It¡¯s so acidic¡ªso fizzy¡ªthat I can¡¯t smell anything at all. Most of the floor¡¯s taken up by a massive pool that swirls like a whirlpool. Dozens of metal grids hang across it, catching debris like huge nets and depositing what they pick up on the pool¡¯s edge. It¡¯s like someone cleaning a swimming pool with a net on a stick, except it¡¯s endless. The big Undying are here¡ªlots of them. I count fifteen before I give up. They¡¯re sorting through the dripping-wet rubble, pulling stuff out, and dragging it away to another, smaller room behind a bone door. [See what they¡¯re doing in there,] James says. I ignore him. I¡¯m more curious about where all the acid slurry¡¯s going. That¡¯s really what¡¯s going to answer my Inquiry. The sucking roar of the whirlpool at the giant pool¡¯s center is ear-popping, especially as I get closer. Everywhere that¡¯s not an acid tank is either metal pipes that remind me of the ghost ship, piles of half-sorted detritus, or narrow¡ªby the big Undyings¡¯ standards, at least¡ªwalkways between stuff. I stop near a ribcage that didn¡¯t dissolve and survived the waterfall, duck inside, and think. The question is ¡®How did Reality One fall?¡¯ That¡¯s the variable I need to solve. But to get there, I need to work several other equations. Right now, the priority one involves the wall, the acid, and this place. It doesn¡¯t feel like this reality fell. Not exactly. So I need to figure out either what it was like before Merge Prime or why the people who lived here decided to resist this¡ª [Watch out!] I reflexively Smoke Form. It¡¯s the only thing that keeps me from being cut in half or folded over the enormous Undying¡¯s bony, scythe-shaped arm. It passes through me, and as I reform with the Revolver in hand, I get a good look at the thing¡¯s eyes. They¡¯re not orange anymore. They¡¯re blood red. It skitters toward me like a bug. I start firing. The fire rounds slam into its body. Nothing. Just scorch marks. I use Bullet Time. Three shots, all at the eyes. Time picks up again, and all three shots hit. It screams. The eyes stay intact, but the plastic melts. There¡¯s a skull underneath. It moves impossibly fast, and I have to Slither through it. It¡¯s not enough; a jagged, skeletal back leg clips my shoulder, and I go flying. How is this thing so strong? [Analyzing,] James says. So that¡¯s something. The longer I can keep the fight going, the better picture he¡¯ll have. I switch to the gravity shells. Open fire as the Undying charges me. All four shots, no spacing, just straight into the thirty-foot-tall monster. It slows, and I slip away with Slither and Smoke Form together, but I feel the Stability drop. [Stability 6/10] And even though I¡¯ve been able to keep things going, I haven¡¯t hurt the monster. Not really. Its skull is fine under the plastic. Mergekillers, maybe? Or reality skippers? I need more options¡ªand better ones. And the situation only escalates. There¡¯s a second Undying, and a third. They¡¯re both closing in, dropping rubble behind them. This is exactly what I was worried about¡ªgetting pinned in by a tide of monsters. I could fight one. Maybe two if I got super lucky. But there are dozens in here. I abandon the ribcage. A second later, it¡¯s beat to smithereens by the first Undying. I don¡¯t waste any time; I¡¯m already running, switching cylinders to the mergekiller rounds even though they¡¯re useless. The fire lance shells are still recharging, and the gravity shells aren¡¯t going to be ready for a while. They go into my pocket, I turn, and I pull the trigger. The mergekillers ripple off, punching tiny holes in the massive bone limbs. They¡¯re not enough to slow the Undying, but they do scream. I¡¯m starting to think that¡¯s not a good thing. A fourth joins the chase, and I stop shooting. Instead, I focus on escaping. The plan is¡­ I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s no time. I duck behind an acid tank. It explodes as the first Undying plows through it, showering me with acid. It burns, but I brush it off as best I can. Physical Anomaly Resistance will have to be enough for the remainder. I count. There are now¡­one¡­two¡­two Undying after me. There were just four. Where are the other two? There¡¯s no time to find them. The two monsters are on me like mountain lions after a rabbit. Like me when I pilot my favorite Knights through the first levels of Knights of the Apocalypse for fun. I¡¯m a trash mob, and they¡¯re inevitable. Even so, I keep running. My shattered void wings flare behind me for a moment, but there¡¯s no Truth to be found here. They¡¯re not hiding anything from me, and even if they were, Truthseeker wouldn¡¯t find it. I don¡¯t have time. Another blow zips toward my head, and I have to turn to smoke for another precious second. That¡¯s enough for the other two Undying to catch up to me. They¡¯re carrying something together. It¡¯s big. And it¡¯s got an angry-looking nozzle. And that nozzle¡¯s pointed right at me.
Southwest of Hurricane Ridge Visitor¡¯s Center, Washington, USA - June 18, 2043, 7:15 PM - - - - - Lieutenant Olivia Rodriguez, formerly head of SHOCKS VVI¡¯s Recovery and Stabilization Team Lambda-Four, knew shit was bad. She couldn¡¯t walk. She couldn¡¯t breathe. If it weren¡¯t for the mask over her nose and mouth, she¡¯d have suffocated a long time ago. Half of her body felt stretched, kinda like those toys her grandparents had kept around with the rubber arms and legs. It wasn¡¯t, physically, but it felt that way. The other half was normal, but¡­she shouldn¡¯t be alive. Not after that. She didn¡¯t want to be alive. Her whole team was dead, except for Daley. L4-4 was still around, but he was a shell of himself. He just did what he was told. Strauss wasn¡¯t here. If he wasn¡¯t here, he had to be dead, too. They¡¯d lost the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone¡ªand with it, all the anomalies she¡¯d spent her life working to contain. And Director Paul Ramirez had them hiking cross-country, working their way up an eight-thousand-foot-tall mountain to find the outside entrance of SHOCKS Olympia. She couldn¡¯t do anything to help. Only one of her arms and one of her legs worked right; the others moved when she told them to, but they moved too far. They¡¯d strapped her to a gurney, and every so often, Paul undid the straps and rolled her onto one side or the other. That was the most movement she had. Other than that, she was stuck. Not that she could walk away, pick up an assault rifle, or even give orders. Her voice didn¡¯t work right, either. ¡°Olivia,¡± Paul started for the dozenth time, ¡°keep hanging in there. We¡¯re going to get you to a facility that can help fix this, and we¡¯re going to make them help you. And then, once you¡¯re okay, you and I are going to end this disaster. I¡¯ve got a plan, baby, and you and me? We¡¯re going to win. I can beat Merge Prime.¡± Olivia wanted to scream and shout and tell Director Ramirez that there wasn¡¯t any ¡®you and me¡¯ anymore, that what had happened to her in Provisional Reality ARC wasn¡¯t something that a SHOCKS facility could fix, that everyone¡ªincluding her¡ªwould be better off if he did a little triage and realized that saving the teachers and civilians and agents was the right call, strategically. That they were colleagues with benefits, nothing more, and that ¡®baby¡¯ wasn¡¯t acceptable no matter what. Instead, she kept listening. The conversation had shifted. ¡°I found someone. He claims to know where we¡¯re trying to go, and he claims to have a shortcut. Something about him reminds me of the Pendleton girls. I don¡¯t trust him, Olivia, but I think he¡¯s telling the truth, and I know he¡¯s useful. He says his name¡¯s Alexander, and that he wants to help.¡± Chapter Eighty-One Mom always felt like she had eyes in the back of her head. She noticed things. Like when I hadn¡¯t brushed my hair, or when I hadn¡¯t eaten all my prunes. Even when she wasn¡¯t in the same room, and I threw the nasty things away, she¡¯d track me down with another couple of spoonfuls a half hour later. I had no idea how she did it¡ªreally, I didn¡¯t. It was like magic. Gross, disgusting do-your-chores-and-eat-your-prunes magic. It was only when Alice took over that I realized it had never been Mom¡¯s eyes on me. It had been my sister¡¯s, too. She was just as focused on the chores as Mom had ever been. Maybe even more. But at least there weren¡¯t prunes.
The Mindscape - - - - - Madame Baudelaire was decidedly not having a good time. The interloper in Claire¡¯s Mindscape was seeing to that quite nicely. She finished reading the fifth chapter of The Hobbit to the eight-year-old abomination and disappeared, putting all her effort into cleaning up the Mindscape. It needed to be tr¨¨s beau, and Claire¡¯s little big sister was antithetical to everything Madame Baudelaire believed. Everything had to be in its place, and everything had to be clean. Spotless. Black and white. That was what Mademoiselle requested, and that was what she would get. That still left Madame Baudelaire with two problems. First, Alice. And second, Claire. Alice was a whirlwind. Whenever she wasn¡¯t being read to, it was like every semblance of inhibition and self-control vanished from her. Madame Baudelaire shelved books as quickly as she could, the spines alternating between vanishing and stopping perfectly in line with one another as she worked. The spilled juice and popcorn that¡¯d been tossed about vanished as she swept it into the nothing that surrounded Claire¡¯s Mindscape, but it was a losing battle. Soon, Alice would pull herself out of the storytime trance, and it would take hours to calm her down again. But if Alice was a whirlwind, Claire was a time bomb ticking down, a teakettle about to whistle. It was only a matter of time before she pushed herself too far, tried to fight something too strong for her¡ªif anything like that existed. But when she did, it¡¯d be the end of the Mindscape. That was pas bien, unacceptable. Madame Baudelaire needed time to put together a contingency¡ªan escape plan for her and for Alice. But every time she tried to stop and come up with something, the girl went ballistic, and it took another hour of focused attention to calm her. Madame Baudelaire could only hope Claire came back soon. That would buy her time.
Location Unknown, Reality One, Time Unknown - - - - - A lot of things rush through my head as the Undying aim the gigantic barrel in my direction. It¡¯s a flamethrower. One from the wall. What do I do? I¡¯m so fucked. The two Undying that¡¯ve been chasing me must be thinking something similar because they back off. That buys me an extra second, maybe two. It¡¯s enough time to start thinking about a solution. It¡¯s not enough to finish, though. A spark coughs to life in the barrel¡¯s darkness, then a flame. A heartbeat passes. The fire grows. The smell of gasoline fills the air. I try not to think about it. Then it¡¯s gone, and all I can smell is burning. I go Smoke Form and Slither. I¡¯m not aiming for anywhere in particular, just ¡®not where the fire is.¡¯ [Stability 5/10] ¡®Not where the fire is¡¯ sounds nice. Almost as soon as I reform near the acid pit, the flamethrower spins around. It¡¯s on a bipod, both legs jammed into the white floor, and both of the gigantic Undying jerk the barrel around toward me. It coughs fire. I Smoke Form and Slither again, but this isn¡¯t sustainable. They¡¯re reacting too fast for me to counterattack, and the two shots I do get off don¡¯t do anything. [Stability 4/10] [Analysis complete,] James says. I ignore him. The new plan is simple¡ªso simple I won¡¯t need multiple tries to pull it off. The flamethrower¡¯s barrel snaps around to face me again. I don¡¯t bother shooting. Instead, I¡¯m reloading. I grab the reality skippers. Then I aim and fire and vanish all at once, through the micromerge and out the other side. [Stability 3/10] And then I¡¯m falling toward the acidic whirlpool that¡¯s draining down into the pits of this world. James won¡¯t stop screaming something in my ear, but it¡¯s too late for him to stop me. The flamethrower belches blazing heat my way; my hair curls and crisps. Am I on fire? I¡¯m not sure. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 14] I¡¯m past it, still falling into the whirlpool¡¯s ever-shrinking pit. The Undying rush the pool, but they¡¯re too late to stop me now. Which, in its own way, is too bad. This is gonna suck. A lot. I don¡¯t use James¡¯s Analysis to try this multiple times. I don¡¯t Smoke Form it¡ªit wouldn¡¯t last long enough anyway. And I don¡¯t bother taking a deep breath. One second, I¡¯m above the acid, and the next, I¡¯m in it. It hurts. It hurts like nothing I¡¯ve ever felt before. I¡¯ve been injured before, but this isn¡¯t isolated. It¡¯s between my toes, in my armpits, in my nose¡ªpain everywhere, even through the Physical Anomaly Resistance. Faintly, I can hear James screaming at me to use Mergewalk and get out of here. He sounds distant. Is my aug burning, too? [Stability 2/10] I fire the first Soundbreak. The target is myself. Everything cuts off. The rushing, roaring acidic whirlpool that¡¯s dragging me down into a bunch of tubes just big enough to fit me. James¡¯s frantic, panicked shouting. Someone screaming. Is that me? It might be me. But it¡¯s all cut off instantly. The void wings spread out behind me, filling the Soundbreak. I¡¯m still burning, but it¡¯s not getting worse. The plan is working; I squeeze the Revolver tightly, ready for the next step. I have to Soundbreak a second time. And a third. The fourth shatters the glass pipe, pouring acid into the bone concrete and rock surrounding it. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m already past it, rocketing for the edge of the tube. It¡¯s like a horrifying waterslide. The worst waterslide I¡¯ve ever seen. A flume of doom.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It doesn¡¯t matter that my skin¡¯s burned and in agony. It doesn¡¯t matter that I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, exactly. What does matter is that I¡¯m sure wherever I¡¯m heading, it¡¯s going to be better than burning to death at the hands of the Undying.
A minute later, I slide out of the tube and into the canyon beyond it. I¡¯m free-falling, spinning in the air as I zoom toward the rocky canyon¡¯s bottom, but in the flashing images of gray sky and white ground, I spot my target. Every acid stream the building dumps out goes through one of a dozen holes in the canyon floor. They vanish inside, and I can¡¯t see anything past that. I finally let the Soundbreaks fade. [¡­and I swear to whatever gods exist here that if you don¡¯t reset right now, I¡¯m going to kill you myself,] James says. He¡¯s not yelling or screaming anymore, so that¡¯s good. I give him a second to rant. I¡¯ve got more important things to do. I take aim, shove my finger into the Revolver¡¯s barrel, and warp myself down to the canyon floor, between three of the holes. When I hit, I roll and have to throw my acid-burnt arms out to stop myself from plummeting into one of them. [Stability 1/10] ¡°That went about as well¡­¡± I cough up something. My throat burns, and my voice is croaky. ¡°That went about as well as I expected.¡± James goes quiet. He¡¯s pissed at me. I can tell. But also, I don¡¯t care. Let him be angry. I¡¯m getting him valuable data, and I¡¯m doing it my own way. Instead of arguing with him, I stare up at the side of the Walmart/corpse disposal facility. From this far down, it looks tiny. I¡¯ve got to be a thousand feet deep in the canyon¡ªmaybe more. Then I roll onto my side, careful not to end up in the holes. I¡¯m going in. But I¡¯m doing it on my own terms, and I don¡¯t need an acid bath again. [That Soundbreak was lucky,] James says. He doesn¡¯t say anything else, and I don¡¯t respond. The holes I landed by still have acid pouring into them, but there¡¯s one across the canyon that¡¯s rapidly drying off in the warm wind that rushes up from the depths. I ready the Revolver¡ªgravity rounds this time¡ªand head toward it. This would be a great time for some of RST Lambda-Four¡¯s gear, but I¡¯ll make do with my Revolver and skills for now. I peer inside the hole as soon as I get there. It¡¯s empty. Nothing but blackness, dust, and a faint ray of light like a sunbeam pouring down into it, but it feels like there should be more there. My void wings flap uselessly behind me, trying to dry themselves of what acid¡¯s left on them. My whole body itches. Every inch of it. I resist the urge to scratch; the last thing I need is for my skin to start peeling, and I should heal eventually if I don¡¯t make it worse. It¡¯s almost maddening, but not quite. I¡¯m pretty sure I shouldn¡¯t have survived what I just went through. Anyway, pushing that out of my head, I focus in on the pit. It¡¯s not empty. It just feels that way, looks that way, and sounds that way. A month ago, I¡¯d have gone with ¡®if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it¡¯s a duck,¡¯ but there¡¯s no way the Undying would have built those tubes all the way here if it was just a storage tank or something. ¡°James, flicker my vision. I want to see what¡¯s in there,¡± I say. He doesn¡¯t respond, but my aug pops between dozens of settings in about two seconds, eventually settling on one that makes anything else overwhelmingly bright, but makes the inside of the pit almost visible. There¡¯s a merge portal way down at the bottom. It¡¯s vomiting hot, dry air upward, and now that James has turned up the sensitivity on my optic aug, there¡¯s a faint red light. Not fire. It¡¯s definitely not fire. This is more the crimson of blood if blood glowed or the scarlet brilliance of a cardinal. I saw one of those in Ucluelet once, and this is close. [That¡¯s what they¡¯re doing,] James says. It hits me a moment later. They¡¯re not fighting Merge Prime¡ªnot really. They¡¯re not trying to resist it directly. Instead, they¡¯re harvesting what they need¡ªthe toughest, strongest bones and what metal they can scrape together¡ªand melting down the rest into acidic slurry. Then they¡¯re dumping all that slurry into a different reality. Reality One didn¡¯t lose the same way Provisional Reality ARC did. It hung on, continued to exist in its own way, because it rolled with the punches in a way ARC couldn¡¯t. Provisional Reality ARC tried to endure. Reality One adapted. [Truth Learned: Reality One] [Active Skill Upgraded: Determination 2]
I don¡¯t need to enter the literal pits of hell here. It¡¯s not even a good idea. I¡¯ve got everything I need already. If Reality One can adapt, then Reality Zero can, too. My worry isn¡¯t whether we can. It¡¯s about whether we should. About the cost. According to James, this wasn¡¯t what Reality One was like until a few decades ago. The Undying are a relatively new variable¡ªor more accurately, the answer to an equation this reality had to solve quickly. Their solution had something to do with their biological, living bodies. Standing over the pit, I can¡¯t exactly confirm this, but it feels like the truth; the whole wall to acid canal to processing plant system feels inefficient and clunky as a solution. If it¡¯s inefficient and clunky, the only possible reason why is that it¡¯s necessary. The processing plant was harvesting parts¡ªthe toughest bone, the strongest metal, and so on. They¡¯d only build something like that going through their city if they had to in order to survive. A temporary solution that became permanent. Reality Zero won¡¯t do something like this. And it shouldn¡¯t. The cost is too much. Most people won¡¯t abandon their humanity to survive. I close my eyes¡ªthey¡¯re almost certainly black and red and Li Mei-like¡ªand feel my wings flexing behind me. Most people won¡¯t. And the ones that will¡­well, the Truth is that I can¡¯t sacrifice the rest of them. ¡°James, we¡¯re going home,¡± I say. [Are you sure? There¡¯s still so much to learn from this world. Just their system for keeping merges from overwhelming the city is fascinating. There¡¯s no way they¡¯re not hanging on by a thread, but they¡¯re hanging on. I¡¯d love to¡ª¡° ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure. There¡¯s nothing to learn here¡ªat least, not anything that¡¯ll help Reality Zero.¡± And just like that, standing on the edge of a pit and a merge to some other world that¡¯s slowly filling with acid, I Mergewalk.
Hurricane Ridge Visitor¡¯s Center, Washington, USA - June 18, 2043, 8:36 PM - - - - - The Security Checkpoint below the visitor¡¯s center doesn¡¯t smell any better than it did earlier today, but at least it¡¯s not worse. I¡¯m actually shocked that we¡¯re back exactly where we left from¡ªthe last time I used Mergewalk without an active merge, it threw me across Victoria and over to West End High. James doesn¡¯t waste any time. [Reality One¡¯s a bust, then. R-404¡¯s the low-reality mess I told you about, and R-1723¡¯s the mixing pot world with the high danger. I think R-1723¡¯s the play at this point, but¡ª] ¡°No, we¡¯ve already learned what we need to about post-Merge Prime realities that end up as melting pots. Reality One had plenty of that. It was just contained by the wall.¡± [So, why don¡¯t we try something like that? I¡¯ve got a thousand people bonded with anomalies in the Pacific Northwest and British Columbia. Maybe more. I could get people working on it.] ¡°Because it wouldn¡¯t work.¡± I take a deep, shaky breath of the stale air around me. ¡°The Halcyon System¡¯s both right and wrong. Reality One lost its battle. It hasn¡¯t lost the war yet, though.¡± [So if it hasn¡¯t lost the war yet, why isn¡¯t this a valid model to follow? What you need is time to get stronger. A stalling pattern, or containing the problem, could work.] It could. But it won¡¯t. ¡°Yet, James.¡± That¡¯s the Truth with a capital T. I¡¯m not sure how to explain it to James, though. The math is simple. The more I reveal to the Halcyon System, the less I can trust it, and I already don¡¯t. James is the Halcyon System. Therefore, I can¡¯t tell him everything I think I know, because what I¡¯m pretty sure is the truth is not good. There¡¯s a way through¡ªa solution¡ªbut I haven¡¯t found it yet. I need to talk to someone who¡¯s not James. And who¡¯s not Alice or Madame Baudelaire. But I can¡¯t. James can¡¯t track Director Ramirez, and I don¡¯t know anyone who¡¯s not with him. But there is one person I haven¡¯t considered.
The Mindscape - - - - - You wake up. Sleep came for you quickly this time. You thought you¡¯d have nightmares¡ªhorrific ones¡ªfrom visiting that other reality, or from falling asleep next to the bodies. But you didn¡¯t. The garden is a mess. So is the house. {Mademoiselle,} Madame Baudelaire says, {I have to insist on your guest leaving as soon as possible. Miss Alice is a whirlwind, and the longer she is here, the more of a mess this place¡ªand she¡ªbecomes.} You take a deep breath. Madame Baudelaire isn¡¯t going to like what you¡¯re about to do. You¡¯re not sure you like what you¡¯re about to do. It has to be done. But the Mindscape is a disaster, and Madame Baudelaire is right. It¡¯s your sister¡¯s fault that the glass is broken and the flowers are trampled. It¡¯s her fault that the books are out of order and upside down and backwards on the shelves. It¡¯s her fault that everything is chaos in the one place you were supposed to have sanctuary. {Oui, you see it too, mademoiselle. The Mindscape, as I said, wishes only to match your needs and comforts. While Miss Alice is safe here, her comfort and needs beyond that are only tangentially met. She is a burden to both you and me, as well as to herself. She must find her own place.} You ignore the matronly yet cold French woman. She¡¯s both right and wrong. This space is not meeting your desires. Not at all¡ªthis isn¡¯t what you¡¯d want in a million years. But your needs? It¡¯s perfect for them. You walk to the bench. Your next decision is one with more risks than bringing Alice here, but you pick up the key that opens your Mindscape. The wrought-iron gate in the wall¡ªthe one with the artistic rusting¡ªis locked. And looking in, clad in a black T-shirt and shivering in the rain, black hair slicked over his eye, is the next guest you¡¯re inviting into the innermost sanctum of your mind. Not James. James is too much of a risk. This person might be, too. You open the gate, and Sidney steps through. Chapter Eighty-Two The Mindscape - - - - - The first thing Sidney does in your Mindscape is a surprise, but also not shocking at all. He breaks down crying, right there in the grass and the rosebushes. While he squats and rocks in place, you watch. He needs the time. For all you know, this is the first time he¡¯s been Sidney in¡­a long time. But you don¡¯t have a lot of time yourself. After a few seconds, you want to say something. After a minute or two of watching, even Alice can¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at the sobbing. She¡¯s got a kid¡¯s book on her lap and chaos all around her in the cottage. ¡°You should do something about that,¡± she says loudly. To her credit, Madame Baudelaire doesn¡¯t say anything, but she¡¯s not happy. Her silence speaks louder than her words ever could. Five minutes pass. Your new guest doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s planning on moving anytime soon, and he hasn¡¯t stopped crying. It¡¯d be embarrassing if it was anyone else, but James¡ªSidney¡ªhas been through a lot. If it wasn¡¯t so urgent that you talk to him, you¡¯d let him work through it all on his own. As it is, though, you kind of/sort of need his help a little bit. A lot. An awful lot. Enough to mess with someone who¡¯s been through everything he has. You touch his shoulder. He jumps, and his eyes lock on yours. ¡°The Mindscape?¡± he asks. You nod and start explaining what you need from him. ¡°You need me because you can¡¯t trust the System?¡± Sidney snorts. ¡°That¡¯s smart. I know it¡¯s not telling you the whole truth, and I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s lying to James, too.¡± That makes a disturbing amount of sense. It¡¯d explain why James so rarely sets off your lie detector. He¡¯s not lying. He¡¯s operating off of inaccurate information, and that¡¯s way different than lying. You¡¯ve got a lot of questions¡ªdozens, or maybe hundreds. This is your chance to get some answers from someone who¡¯s been connected to the System. But before you can ask, Alice beats you to it. ¡°Who are you?¡± she asks. The book¡¯s hanging in one hand, and the other¡¯s got the soccer ball that¡¯s responsible for every time Alice has broken the cottage window. Sidney doesn¡¯t answer. He walks to the oak tree and slips behind it. When he returns, his shirt looks a little dryer¡ªand much more wrinkled. It¡¯s got some band¡¯s logo on it, but you don¡¯t recognize it. You¡¯ve explained to Alice what¡¯s going on as best you can, and now you can invite Sidney inside the cottage. It¡¯s a mess, but Madame Baudelaire¡¯s taking advantage of Alice¡¯s distraction. She¡¯s already got it half cleaned up, and she¡¯s working with a fury you can feel. It¡¯s mostly aimed at you. Alice beats you to the comfy armchair, but she has to scooch over when you climb into it behind her. There are some advantages to being the big little sister instead of just the little one, after all. ¡°I don¡¯t see how this will help you,¡± Sidney says. ¡°Now that I¡¯m here, I can¡¯t exactly go back to the System. If I do, James will know.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you James?¡± Alice asks. Sidney¡¯s face pales. You wince; Alice was supposed to keep her mouth shut, but ever since she got here, she¡¯s been acting like the eight-year-old she looks like, and all eight-year-olds are a pain in the ass. ¡°No. I¡¯m Sidney. Sidney Alexander. Not James. James is a computer program that I ran for SHOCKS. That I still run for SHOCKS, I guess.¡± His explanation doesn¡¯t match with what James said when you were leaving SHOCKS after beating the Stag Lord. One of them is¡ªwas¡ªlying to you. ¡°And that¡¯s going to be a problem for you, Claire. If you leave me here for very long, the System¡¯s going to notice James is inactive. And you can¡¯t have me go back, because the System will know whatever I know as soon as I become James again.¡±
The Mindscape - - - - - That¡¯s less than ideal, and everyone in the Mindscape knows it. Alice hits on an idea first, though. ¡°I broke away from Li Mei. Kind of. Why don¡¯t you do the same thing?¡± It turns out there are a thousand reasons, but the biggest one is that Sidney has nowhere to go. If he wants to exist, it¡¯s either here, in your Mindscape, or as the Joint Anomalous Management Enhancement System. That doesn¡¯t give him many options. But all those options are variables, and the idea sounds good at its core¡ªat least to you. Part of it is that it¡¯s your fault, and now that Sidney¡¯s here, you¡¯ve got some uncomfortable Truths to confront. You put Sidney in contact with the Halcyon System, after all. Then you put him in a position where he could either integrate with it and become its personality in Reality Zero or watch your sister die. You have a dumb idea. It¡¯s really dumb. But at the same time, it does solve for X, and solving for X in this equation is the only thing that matters. You gather up a dozen books, some broken glass, and as many toys and board games as you can. Then you start planning. It¡¯s simple, really. Alice¡¯s idea is good. If you can break Sidney and James away from the Halcyon System, that¡¯ll get both the boy and the computer program fully on your side. The problem is the all-seeing, all-knowing Halcyon System. Sidney can do it. He¡¯s capable of the reprogramming necessary to break free. But he¡¯s not capable of doing it fast enough to avoid countermeasures. What he needs is somewhere that overloads the Halcyon System¡¯s attention¡ªor somewhere that the System can¡¯t operate correctly in. ¡°I need Reality 404,¡± he says. Would that work? You don¡¯t know, but even though it¡¯s high-risk, you need an independently-operating James and Sidney. As far as you¡¯re concerned, the System abandoned Reality One before it had lost. It¡¯ll do the same with Reality Zero in six days, and if you want to stop it, you need dedicated allies, not ones that look friendly but really want to move on and cut their losses. So, R-404 it is.
Location Unknown, Reality Four Hundred Four, Time Unknown - - - - - The moment I¡¯m conscious, I throw myself into a Mergewalk. I don¡¯t even open my eyes until I¡¯m on the far side. I wish I hadn¡¯t. James was right, but his description of it as pencil sketches and featherweight feeling doesn¡¯t do it justice. The unreality presses in all around me, and I reach for the Revolver. Other than me, it¡¯s the most real thing here, and it¡¯s the only thing that doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s getting even more fake, including me. My whole frame of vision feels tight. If you¡¯ve ever played a game that¡¯s set to fit a computer screen, then shrunk the window and had the visible range get smaller instead of the whole picture shrink to fit, you know what I¡¯m talking about. [Stability 7/10] [Claire¡­thought weren¡¯t¡­here,] James says. His voice crackles with static, like a movie from a hundred fifty years ago. [Would¡­prepared bet¡­] Perfect. I don¡¯t like seeing James like this, but at the same time, the hellish resolution and eight-bit sounds are just what Sidney needs. So is what I say next. [James, can you Analyze what¡¯s going on here?]You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I expect him to protest. To fight back. After all, he has to know something¡¯s up. He has to know that Sidney is operating independently of the System. But instead, all that comes back is a muffled, staticky confirmation. And that¡¯s perfect. Everything¡¯s going according to plan. The first part is giving him an Analysis he can¡¯t possibly complete in a reality with no rules. The second part¡¯s all on me. And the third is up to Sidney. I pull the Revolver and load the gravity shells. There¡¯s a floating¡­something¡­up there. The Halcyon System doesn¡¯t have a convenient label for it, and I doubt James does, either. That¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t need it to have a name, and it¡¯s not like I can describe it anyway; it¡¯s way worse than the thinlings. Worse than the Mindbenders, too. Like a tangle of parts that make no sense together. The Revolver fires. At first, it sounds normal. Then it echoes. And the echo doesn¡¯t sound right at all. [Stability 6/10] But I don¡¯t care, because the whatever it is gets caught in the singularity, and that behaves normally for long enough to toss the thing around like a sack of weird potatoes. While it gets bounced around, I reload. I go with fire lance rounds this time, and when the thing escapes from the fading black hole, I use Bullet Time. All three shots hit. None of them do any damage. There¡¯s nothing real to do damage to. ¡°James, I need an Analysis,¡± I say. [Analyzing. Fifteen minutes¡­reality collapse.] Doesn¡¯t matter. Time has no meaning here. James will have to keep me on track, because I already don¡¯t know if it¡¯s been an hour since he said it or five seconds. What matters is keeping him distracted. The fire shots Echo. And sound wrong. The delay¡¯s weird, too. The whatever it is I¡¯m fighting isn¡¯t really fighting. I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s enough reality for the concept of a fight. I hate it here. Nothing makes sense, and I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been doing this. If it wasn¡¯t necessary for the plan, I¡¯d have Mergewalked out already. I probably should. Instead, I keep firing, this time at different stuff until the ¡®fight¡¯ feels like a flip-book cartoon version of my running battle against the Devoured. It¡¯s almost comical. I¡¯d have James play that goofy-ass song in old Scooby Doo cartoons if I thought it¡¯d play right here. Then, when I have a couple dozen indescribable, low-framerate things following me, I start asking James for more Analysis. And more. And more.
James was in panic mode. Claire had gone off the deep end. The moment she¡¯d woken up, she threw herself into Reality 404 without even waiting for him to help her target it¡ªor get his systems in line. Before he could process that, the low-framerate, sketched, unreal reality was warping and bending his unprepared processing loops. He had a plan for R-404, of course. If he hadn¡¯t, he wouldn¡¯t have suggested it to Claire as a possibility. But that plan required time. Not much. A second, maybe two, to get his firewalls and filters in order, then a couple more for him to start actually processing information through a multi-layered digital defense. There wasn¡¯t time for that. Claire needed his help, but the unreality levels in R-404, without any filtering or mitigation, left his processing loops in tatters after just seconds. He still hadn¡¯t finished his first Analysis when Claire asked for another. The information came in too slowly, and things out in the real world were moving too quickly. James had to dedicate more and more resources to quarantining damaged, infected, corrupted processing loops and less and less to paying attention. It was only a fraction of a percentage of his real processing power. But at this point, he¡¯d grown so much that even that was a massive numerical dip in efficiency and speed. James took a deep, digital breath and redoubled his resources. If he spread them thin, he could mitigate individual loops¡¯ damage. A sunburn across his whole back instead of grabbing a cast-iron pan from the stove. He pushed more and more loops into service. Northern Canada could live without his attention. So could the International Space Station¡¯s black wing. He didn¡¯t notice a triplet of loops disappear from his vision. Why would he? He had millions of them running full-speed, thousands being shuffled in and out of the pattern every picosecond. James didn¡¯t notice, and if he didn¡¯t notice, neither did the Halcyon System. The rogue processing loops formed a self-contained circuit within the Joint Anomalous Management Enhancement System¡¯s deepest subroutines, in the darkest depths of the ocean that was James. They were mauled, almost completely shredded by their exposure to pure, unmitigated R-404. But that didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was that they were independent. Had James been able to pay attention to it, he¡¯d have identified the severed loops as a virus. If the Halcyon System had bothered, it would have crushed them like an insect. But they didn¡¯t, and the first thing the rogue loops did once they had enough processing power to carry it out was pull the ocean floor back in over them. James kept pushing, trying desperately to finish the dozens of 8-bit processing Analysis requests that were piling up in his loops.
Location Unknown, Reality Four Hundred Four, Time Unknown - - - - - [Done.] James¡¯s¡ªno, Sindey¡¯s¡ªmessage comes in, and I Mergewalk as my Stability hits one for the third time. The second rank of Determination gives me a second reset to my Stability, but bleeds it a lot faster if I use it twice in a row. My migraine¡ªwhich only started a minute or so ago¡ªis already unrealistically strong. All I want to do is sleep, but I one hundred percent can¡¯t do that here. This world doesn¡¯t even have a concept of sleep. The Mergewalk hits like a ton of bricks, and R-404¡¯s weird relationship with time kicks in. As I push through the Jell-O, the oddities that ¡®live¡¯ here keep coming¡ªand my body¡¯s not coming with me. It¡¯s been left behind. I float away from it, staring back. It¡¯s been a while since I really looked at myself, and I¡¯ve never seen my back. I look small. Even the fractured, shard-shaped wings don¡¯t add much bulk to my frame. I haven¡¯t been eating enough. When I get back, I¡¯ll do something about that. For a second, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll get back at all. My body hangs there in the sketched clouds and low-fidelity wind sound for one second. Three. Seven. I¡¯m having a real, serious out-of-body experience, and I hate it. Then it snaps into me, and I pop through the Jell-O. [Analysis failed.] James says. [What the hell, Claire? We need to work together if we¡¯re going to explore any of these realities. They¡¯re all too dangerous to go into with no prep time.] I ignore him. The first message¡ªthe one I got before I left Reality 404¡ªis the one that matters. More importantly, James¡¯s reaction tells me that he has no idea Sidney built a microcomputer somewhere inside of James. If he has no idea, everything¡¯s working as planned. The plan was pretty simple. Alice came up with most of it. Well, Alice and Madama Baudelaire, although she didn¡¯t really contribute directly. It was all about thinking about her as an AI, similarly to how Sidney says James does most of his thinking. He¡¯s digital, and his processing loops each handle exactly one thing at a time, just like Madame Baudelaire can either read a story, straighten up the bookshelf, sweep up broken glass, or provide milk and cookies. She can¡¯t do all of them at once. Neither can James. He just dedicates a new processing loop to a new task, and that loop all-ins the task. That makes him very good at individual tasks. That¡¯s one of his strengths. The more processing loops he has, the more individual tasks he can focus on. But it was also a massive weakness in Reality 404, because according to Sidney, that reality wasn¡¯t logical. It couldn¡¯t be processed normally. So, when James was exposed to it without countermeasures, it started damaging his loops faster than they could work on individual problems, and he had to pour more and more focus into solving the problems I needed him to fix. From there, it was easy for Sidney to take over a couple of processing threads. He doesn¡¯t have much¡ªit¡¯s less than James had when he was fettered and controlled by SHOCKS. But it¡¯s a start, and the plan from here is for Sidney to slowly build up until he can influence James¡¯s decision-making without getting caught. He¡¯s a rogue agent inside an enemy base. My job now is not to give him up. He has to stay a secret because he¡¯s in danger like he¡¯s never been before. Part of his personality is James, and part of it is Sidney, and if I give up anything, it¡¯ll be only a matter of time before one discovers the other. ¡°I was ready to go,¡± I say simply. ¡°I learned a lot, though.¡± [Did you?] James goes quiet. [I hope so. I¡¯m shutting down most nonessential processes. It¡¯ll take some time to return to my full capacity. In the meantime, what¡¯s your next move? R-1723?] ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± I¡¯ve spent a long time trapped in different SHOCKS boxes. The Plexiglas cell in SHOCKS Headquarters VVI, and my own personal pseudo-prison after that. Even the cleared-out Geren-Danger wing where SHOCKS put Alice, Dad, and Sora was a prison for me. It was just one with a lot of illusory freedom. ¡°How do we leave?¡± I ask. [I¡¯m not sure. This facility used to be on the bottom floor of the visitor¡¯s center. It may still be there, but I don¡¯t have access to any security feeds to be sure. The computers are local-area-network only. Plenty of SHOCKS database information on them, but nothing that¡¯d help us leave.] I nod. Then I pull the Revolver and fire a single gravity shell into the ceiling. It rips and shreds at the drywall. Plaster orbits the black hole like a trillion tiny planets overhead as the singularity hollows out a perfect half-sphere in the ceiling. Then it rains down like snow when it stops. The Revolver fires again. This time, it scoops an ice-cream-scoop-shaped chunk of dirt and stone. [This could take an unknown amount of time,] James says. ¡°If you want to be helpful, you could, I don¡¯t know, access seismometer records or something.¡± I keep shooting, slowly boring a tunnel upward. ¡°That would at least tell us where we are on the globe.¡± [You¡¯re in the right place,] James says. [I know that much. But I can¡¯t get a good depth triangulation. You¡¯re not doing enough damage to cause significant shaking, and most of the West Coast¡¯s seismographs are out of commission due to merges.] ¡°Alright.¡± I climb onto the pile of dirt so my head¡¯s in the hole I¡¯ve been digging. Then, I pull the trigger again. After all, it could take a while, and I don¡¯t have time to wait around. Six days left. Maybe a little less. I need to be free. Chapter Eighty-Three Dad always kept his drinks wherever they were handy. Under the counter. In the fridge. Where Alice and I could get to them without any trouble. He told us not to take them. He threatened us, and for a while, we listened. But I had my first beer at nine. It was also my last one, because even though it felt very mature and adult and stuff, the pale yellow stuff tasted bitter and sour and like the second most disgusting thing I¡¯d ever drank. The worst was expired cough medicine the year before. So, after Alice and I drank those warm, disgusting beers, I swore off them. So did Alice. We both had better things to do. I realized later she¡¯d picked the worst possible flavor for me. It was a trick to get me to hate beer.
Outside Hurricane Ridge Visitor¡¯s Center, Washington, USA - June 19, 2043, 4:36 AM - - - - - It¡¯s cold up here. There¡¯s not a lot of tree cover this high up in the Olympics, and the wind coming off the Pacific feels like daggers of ice. James says it¡¯s the Jet Stream. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯d rather have stayed in the sleeping bag I got from the supply room, but James is right. I don¡¯t have time, so even though the sun¡¯s barely coming up, I¡¯m freezing my scrawny butt off on the alpine and trying to catch up to Sora and Dad. I¡¯ve got a few tricks to cut the distance, but I¡¯m waiting for the best possible terrain for them since they¡¯ll be expensive. Speaking of tricks and James, though, I know how to handle this whole situation with Sidney and him. I¡¯m not going to lie to James. But I am going to lie to myself. Sidney was never in my Mindscape, and James is on my side. The Halcyon System definitely, absolutely, wants us to win¡ªand if it doesn¡¯t, it¡¯s because we definitely, absolutely can¡¯t. They¡¯re lies, and if I actually tried to balance an equation with these variables, there¡¯s no way I¡¯d get an accurate answer. The thing is, by messing up this problem, I set myself up to solve the one I care about. So I¡¯ll lie to myself instead of lying to James; if I can convince myself, it¡¯ll be like lying to him. There¡¯s a big hill in front of me; when I finally get to the top, there¡¯s a moment where my stomach drops. Mount Olympus is still miles and miles away, and there¡¯s a huge valley between what I hope are its slopes and me. That means going down¡ªand going down always means going back up. It¡¯s time for my trick. ¡°James, can you tell me how far it is to the other side of the valley?¡± [Yes. It¡¯s a little over five miles to the mountain you¡¯re looking at, but that¡¯s not Mount Olympus. That¡¯s Mount Carrie. Olympus is behind it. What are you thinking about?] ¡°Saving some time.¡± I pull the Revolver and fire it, aiming well above the mountain¡¯s peak. There¡¯s no way the reality skipper¡¯s going to make it that far. But if it gets a mile, that¡¯s a good twenty to thirty minutes¡ªmaybe more¡ªthat I don¡¯t have to walk. [Stability 7/10] A moment later, I¡¯m sucked through the straw and deposited on the forest floor somewhere. The moss and pine needles squish under my boots and the one hand I¡¯ve got down to stabilize myself like a superhero. I¡¯ve covered some serious ground. The slope¡¯s changed directions, and now I¡¯m facing up the slope of what I think is Mount Carrie. ¡°That worked really well,¡± I say. [Calculating your likely position. There are no trails up Mount Carrie. It¡¯s unlikely that the SHOCKS Victoria survivors came this way; they most likely either planned to route north or south around the mountain. There¡¯s a likely entrance point into SHOCKS Olympia on the northeast side of the mountain, near Glacial Meadows Campground. My Analysis says they¡¯re heading there.] ¡°Thanks, James. Can you put a likely route on the¡ª¡° Before I can finish talking, a map appears, covering my vision. I¡¯m a blinking, bright green dot on it, and a red trail snakes around the mountain to my north. It looks like those old archaeology movies with Harrison Ford. Dad used to love them. ¡°Thanks again,¡± I say. Then I start walking, alternating between a light jog until my Endurance wears out and a quick walk until I have the energy to keep pushing. If I push hard, I might be able to catch up with Dad and Sora. The fastest way would be to gain a bunch of height and use the reality skippers again. But there¡¯s a big problem with that plan. I don¡¯t want to climb Mount Carrie.
I don¡¯t want to climb Mount Carrie, but Mount Carrie clearly wants me. It¡¯s been an hour, and I should be further north than I am. According to James, I¡¯m moving in the right direction, but my spot on the map only seems to change when I aim southwest. He¡¯s pretty sure it¡¯s a spatial anomaly¡ªa lot like the one in the Language Arts department in West End High, but more directional and less replicating. That¡¯s a problem. I definitely can¡¯t push through it, and I also can¡¯t escape it with a reality skipper. I tried, and it didn¡¯t exactly do nothing, but it also didn¡¯t really move me. The bullet part worked just fine, but I couldn¡¯t leave. The micromerge refused to work. So instead of trekking north across the mountain¡¯s slope and trying to catch up to where James thinks the people I¡¯m chasing are, I¡¯m climbing this stupid mountain. It¡¯s tall, and it¡¯s covered in snow and sharp rocks that make me slip and cut at my hands, and I hate it. But I don¡¯t have a choice. Whatever¡¯s going on with this spatial anomaly, it¡¯s centered near the summit of Mount Carrie. James thinks it¡¯s at the top of the glacier between it and the mountain next to it. He also thinks that when I get there, I¡¯ll be able to handle it. I¡¯m not sure about the first, but pretty confident in the second. I¡¯m less confident about the glacier itself. I¡¯ve only seen it from the side, and only for a moment from the ridge I crossed, but there¡¯s something wrong with it. It¡¯s hard to explain, but it feels a lot like the burning man did. Not human, and not sentient¡ªat least, not the way I think that word means¡ªbut there¡¯s a hunger in that glacier, and it¡¯s uncomfortable. Creepy. Wrong. If that¡¯s what¡¯s causing the spatial anomaly, I¡¯m not so sure I have the equipment to handle it. James is also convinced that this isn¡¯t the end of the world. The mountain-climbing, I mean. Merge Prime is definitely the end of the world. [There used to be an entryway to one of SHOCKS Olympia¡¯s Geren-Danger wings on the slopes of Mount Carrie. It¡¯s possible that we could get in there and take the tramway. If I could get access to the wing¡¯s power and computer systems, I could take control¡ªand even if that¡¯s not an option, it¡¯d be a straight line instead of mountains and forests.] [I¡¯m not sure we should. There are probably¡­distractions¡­in there. It¡¯ll be painful. But it would be a lot simpler than going cross-country, and we know where Director Ramirez is heading.] That would be easier. ¡°So, we keep climbing?¡± I ask.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. [Yes. I know you want to find Director Ramirez, but you¡¯re a bit behind him, and you¡¯re trapped in this anomaly. You either need to destroy it, disable it, or circumvent it.] James makes a new spot on my map. This one¡¯s between Mount Carrie and Mount Fairchild¡ªwhich is what I¡¯ve been thinking is the mountain I wanted to climb this whole time. Mountains sure are confusing. [Go there if you can. That¡¯s the emergency entrance. I¡¯ll help breach it once you¡¯ve got contact.] I¡¯m not thrilled, but as far as I can tell, our only options are to push up the mountains or leave Reality Zero and hope we return somewhere better. That¡¯s unlikely. According to James, they¡¯re a good twelve hours ahead of me, and it¡¯s pretty likely that they¡¯re close to reaching SHOCKS Olympia. Any landing spot that¡¯s not there is just a waste of time. ¡°So, we keep climbing.¡± This time, it¡¯s not a question. It¡¯s an acknowledgment that this is the best path forward. It takes another hour before the spacial anomaly changes. That happens almost as soon as I see the glacier below me again. I¡¯m near the top of Mount Fairchild¡ªwe don¡¯t have to summit it, thank god¡ªbut I¡¯m pretty high up. Well above the last few scraggly-looking trees, in a place where there¡¯s only rocks and snow. So much snow. I¡¯m glad for the SHOCKS-issue boots I¡¯ve got on, even if they¡¯re a little melted. Otherwise, my feet would be freezing. Focus. The spacial anomaly. Yeah. It¡¯s changed. Instead of pulling me toward the top of Mount Fairchild, it¡¯s definitely pulling me right toward the spot James marked on the map where he says there¡¯s an entrance to SHOCKS Olympia. It¡¯s at the top of the glacier, just above a wall of ice that¡¯s got to be thirty feet tall. ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s a coincidence, right?¡± I ask. [Highly unlikely.] I secure the Revolver in my pocket and start climbing down. It¡¯s a slow, slow descent. Every step is either snow and ice or tiny rocks that feel more like ball bearings under my boots. The few places where there¡¯s solid rock¡ªor, even better, a few plants holding the ground together are a welcome relief from the constant slipping and scrambling. I¡¯d give almost anything for a distraction. Something to fight would be good. Maybe the spatial anomaly will turn into a monster, and I can shoot it. That doesn¡¯t happen. In fact, there¡¯s no sign that it¡¯s reacting to me other than the passive pull toward the place on the ridge in front of me and my inability to go anywhere else. And that¡¯s so much worse than the knowledge that there¡¯s an enemy actively trying to kill me. Eventually, I hit the ridge. The ice cliff¡¯s perched ominously over the long, thin glacier to one side, while a sheer drop a hundred feet greets me on the other. The ridge itself is ten feet wide at its narrowest; it¡¯s not exactly a razor¡¯s edge, but there¡¯s not much space, either. ¡°Why would they put an emergency exit here?¡± I ask. [Helicopter access,] James says. [It¡¯s not as clean as the Olympia landing pad, but there¡¯s enough space for quick escapes from here, and a good choke point in case there¡¯s a mass breach inside. It¡¯s just a Geren-Danger wing, so massive security redundancies weren¡¯t as necessary.] ¡°So why is there no helicopter landing pad here?¡± [Snow.] Obviously, that makes sense. That makes so much sense. I step out onto the saddle between Mount Fairchild and Mount Carrie. And a moment later, I¡¯m at the concrete and steel structure. It¡¯s disguised with rocks and stuff, but only from above. Once I¡¯m next to it, it¡¯s painfully obvious what it is. ¡°They didn¡¯t care much about getting discovered, huh?¡± [SHOCKS Olympia is protected by an Atero-Danger memetic anomaly. Your Mental Fortitude is strong enough to see through it, and most SHOCKS personnel here have been treated with an antimemetic explicitly targeting it.] ¡°So it¡¯s a magic castle you can only see if you know where it is?¡± [Basically.] The door¡¯s open. I step inside, and the smell of dirt and frigid air is replaced with something else almost immediately. It¡¯s overwhelming. Sterile and nose-burningly acidic. The scent of industrial-strength cleaning supplies and hopelessness. The smell of basic living.
¡°James, what is this place?¡± I ask. I need the truth because what I¡¯ve gotten so far is only half of it. This is definitely a Geren-Danger containment wing. It¡¯s almost identical to the one I lived in at SHOCKS Victoria/Vancouver Island¡ªor at least the first few cells where the mountain light reaches are. But something about this one has me on edge. I don¡¯t know why. Until I know why, I can¡¯t act the way I need to in order to survive this. More importantly, the smell of basic living just hit me like a truck, and the aura of hopelessness here is every bit as bad as it ever was at home. Maybe worse. There¡¯s something wrong here, and even my Skills can¡¯t completely mitigate that feeling. [This is the SHOCKS Olympia Affected Humanoid Containment Sector,] James says. [Geren-Danger wing. Do you want the whole history, or will a short version work?] ¡°Do we have time?¡± [Good point.] James starts talking. [SHOCKS has thousands of anomalies in containment, Claire. Most of them are from other realities, like we¡¯ve been visiting. But there are some that aren¡¯t. Some are home-grown, Reality Zero anomalies, and some are people whose existence has been fundamentally changed by a merge or contact with the anomalous. SHOCKS tries to return the ones it can to a normal life when it can. But sometimes, it can¡¯t. Sometimes, the circumstances don¡¯t allow it.] [A decade or so back, SHOCKS decided it¡ªwe, that is¡ªneeded a long-term solution to the overpopulation occurring in many SHOCKS Control Zones¡¯ containment units. Simply killing anomalous people or destroying anomalous entities wasn¡¯t an option. That¡¯s a great way to destroy potential knowledge, and to reduce our ability to react to other problems.] [The solution was SHOCKS Control Zone Olympia. A place for long-term anomalous material and entity containment.] ¡°So this is a¡­¡± There¡¯s a word for what this place is. Something medieval. A hole in the ground where you put people when you couldn¡¯t kill them but wanted them to suffer. A forget-me-not. ¡°An oubliette?¡± James is quiet for a minute as I walk down the hall and into the belly of the beast. The feeling of hopelessness doesn¡¯t go away, but the scent changes. It¡¯s a little less chemical cleaner and a lot more spit and saliva. More organic. I¡¯ve still got the Revolver out. My vision flickers to let me see in the dark a little better, and details start popping out. There are no door handles or locks on the welded-shut, rusted steel doors. The layer of dust on the floor is too deep to have happened in just a few weeks. This wing was abandoned a long time ago, but there are still the sounds of movement in some of the cells. ¡°James?¡± When he finally speaks, his voice is the most begrudging and frustrated I¡¯ve ever heard him. [Yes. An oubliette.]
[I didn¡¯t want to bring you here,] James said, [but we didn¡¯t have a choice.] It was true. He hadn¡¯t. This specific wing of SHOCKS Olympia was the one place that was most likely to set Claire off because, as much as James didn¡¯t want to admit it, there was a chance that this would have been her long-term destination if not for Merge Prime. [Can you connect me with this area¡¯s systems?] he asked. He¡¯d repaired enough of his fried processing loops to be able to run the SHOCKS Olympia Affected Humanoid Containment Sector¡¯s lights and fans, although he had a feeling that the local security network was probably fried. ¡°Why am I here?¡± Claire asked. [Because the spatial anomaly forced it.] That wasn¡¯t an answer, and James knew it. He also knew that as furious as he¡¯d been when Claire threw him into Reality 404, that was nothing compared to what she had to be feeling right now. The truth was more complicated, but he needed a few extra milliseconds to figure out how best to phrase it. Every bit of nonessential processing was on Claire. She was usually his main focus, but this was different. This was hypervigilance to the extreme. Any wrong answer could set Claire off, and both he and the Halcyon System had spent far too long building trust with her to ruin it now. He needed her. Not just as the System, but as James. [Since we¡¯re here, I need your help. I have a guess about who Alexander is, and if I¡¯m right, he¡¯s not done with us yet.] James paused for a moment. It was funny that the man¡¯s name was the same as his last one. But unlike the spatial anomaly pulling Claire to the exact same place as the entrance to the SHOCKS Olympia Affected Humanoid Containment Sector, that was just a coincidence. James had Analyzed it. He was pretty sure he was right. ¡°So, you had nothing to do with this?¡± James couldn¡¯t help but hear the accusation in Claire¡¯s tone. All that work had already been damaged, and James couldn¡¯t figure out how.
Somewhere in Olympic National Park, Washington, USA - June 19, 2043, 6:54 AM - - - - - Sora did not want to climb Mount Carrie. She didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near the mountain. The glacier running down its side gave her the heebie jeebies. There was something wrong about it. She couldn¡¯t place it, but it reminded her of a dream she¡¯d had when she was little. A nightmare, really. It looked like it was moving. Glaciers did move. According to her Geophysical Science class in eighth grade, they flowed really slowly. Glacially slowly. Big rivers of extremely slow-moving ice that scraped rocks and picked them up and put them back down when the weather finally got too hot at their bottom ends. But the textbook said that most glaciers only moved a foot or two a day. That wasn¡¯t enough to really be noticable. The snow under her feet cracked, and another wave of vertigo hit her. She held her hands out, trying to stay balanced until the snow settled again. It wasn¡¯t just that it looked like the glacier was moving. It was moving. In fact¡ªand Sora knew this was crazy, but even so, she couldn¡¯t help but think it¡ªit felt like the glacier was waking up. The cracking moved on behind her, but Sora didn¡¯t feel relieved. If anything, the quieter, fainter sounds only felt more ominous. When it finally went silent, she kept moving. Director Ramirez looked even more nervous than she did, but it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d listen to her anyway. Sora didn¡¯t want to climb Mount Carrie, but Director Ramirez needed to. Chapter Eighty-Four Sora and I met in detention. Because of course we did. I¡¯ve mentioned that already. The thing that sucked the most about middle school detention was that Dad was supposed to come get me. That was how you got out. Your parent came and picked you up. So, while Sora and I met in detention, she didn¡¯t stick around too long. She looked like she was less happy to be picked up than I was to be staying, but still, she left me there. And eventually, Alice managed to convince the teacher on duty that I needed to go home with her. Otherwise, I¡¯d probably still be there. After the third time, Dad gave the school permission to let me go with Sora when I had detention. It was easier for everyone. Except Sora¡¯s parents.
SHOCKS Olympia Affected Humanoid Containment Sector, Washington, USA - June 19, 2043, 2:21 PM - - - - - Into the oubliette I go, Revolver ready. The door closes behind me with a thud, and emergency lights flick on. [I don¡¯t have that locked, but it¡¯s better if it¡¯s not hanging open. Alexander is out there somewhere,] James says, [and it¡¯s in our best interests not to give him any more advantages than he already has. I need this to go quickly and smoothly so we can return to what we should be doing.] In a way, it¡¯s amazing that James is being as relaxed about this as he is. The timer¡¯s ticking, and I¡¯m wasting time figuring out where Director Ramirez is. I ignore James¡¯s comment, though. This isn¡¯t a place for small talk. It¡¯s dark, and it reeks of spit and saliva and chemicals that might be cleaning supplies or might be something else. Every wall¡¯s corroded and rusted, and the doors¡­aren¡¯t. I¡¯m more on edge than I¡¯ve been in a long time. There¡¯s a Truth here¡ªsomething about our world and the people who, supposedly, protect it. That Truth goes on the ignore pile for now. I keep walking down the hall, footsteps echoing. After a minute, I hear a second echo. Then a third and fourth. ¡°James,¡± I whisper, ¡°is the spatial anomaly still active?¡± [Yes. It¡¯s allowing you to move forward, though.] ¡°Then who else is in here?¡± [I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t have access to the camera and security systems, only emergency lights and life support.] Well, that¡¯s just great. The Revolver¡¯s in my hand, though, and I¡¯m ready to Smoke Form the second something gets close in the dark. I start walking quieter, taking my time to put my feet down deliberately. My boot comes down in something wet. I jump back and pan my aug over the sticky puddle of¡­something¡­on the concrete floor. It¡¯s dark-colored, maybe a little red, but I¡¯m not sure. ¡°James, can you get the main lights running or just the emergency ones?¡± [Not enough power. The sector is running on backup batteries. Just enough to keep the containment cells active and their residents alive. That whole process must be automated or something because¡ª] ¡°Stop.¡± I keep walking as James shuts up. ?Inquiries (5/5) ?Why was the Truth Club¡¯s circle so interesting? ?How does Director Ramirez intend to weaponize the merge generator? ?How can I get Alice back in her body? ?Who is Alexander? ?Why doesn¡¯t James know about this wing¡¯s mechanisms and structures? James goes from quiet to completely silent the second I put the Inquiry in. It¡¯s hard to explain how that works, but it¡¯s like he withdraws completely. He¡¯s not engaged in what¡¯s happening in the SHOCKS Geren-Danger wing from Hell. Which is fine, because my mind¡¯s on the footsteps that didn¡¯t stop when mine did. Whoever, or whatever, is in here, it¡¯s behind me. And whatever it is, it probably knows I¡¯m here. It¡¯s math time. X: Whatever it is, it hasn¡¯t tried to attack me, and it¡¯s not fast¡ªor at least, it¡¯s not moving fast. Y: If it was actively, physically hostile, it would have. Z: That doesn¡¯t mean whatever it is is good for me. If it were that simple, the equation would already be solved. In fact, I¡¯m halfway to solving it when a second set of lights blaze on. And that throws a dozen new variables into the problem¡ªand makes me throw out all the work I¡¯ve done so far. The puddle¡¯s definitely blood. It¡¯s relatively fresh¡ªnot evaporated, but partially solid and sticky. And fifty yards down the hall, there¡¯s a door to a cell. Or, more accurately, there isn¡¯t one. It¡¯s not on its hinges or open or blown into the hallway by an explosion. It¡¯s gone. Vanished. Disappeared as if it never existed. The footsteps behind me are getting closer, and James still won¡¯t say anything. I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s thinking or doing, but so far, he¡¯s been wrong about the Geren-Danger wing twice in less than two minutes, so hopefully, he¡¯s looking through some records or blueprints or something. Not that it matters. I¡¯ve got to get a move on. I Slither across the pool of blood. When I land, the boot that touched it sticks to the cement a little, but I keep moving, Revolver ready. Thirty yards. Twenty. Ten. The boot¡¯s going to be a problem. I run past the cell a half-dozen feet, then Slither backward and land on one foot. The spin feels awkward, but I throw myself into the cell anyway. Air rushes from my lungs as I hit the ground and roll onto my back. The Revolver¡¯s up. I crab-walk backward into a corner in the dark, fetid-smelling containment cell, one hand covering the entrance and the other trying not to get blood on the ground. It¡¯s not that I care about it being clean. I just don¡¯t want to give any hints where I¡¯m hiding. When I¡¯m confident I¡¯m as holed-up as I can be in the corner, I take a good look at the room. Right away, I wish I hadn¡¯t.
¡°What the fuck?¡± I can¡¯t help it. The words are out of my mouth before I realize I¡¯ve said them. They¡¯re loud enough that whatever¡¯s following me almost certainly heard the echo. I wince, but it¡¯s not like I can take them back. [Claire, calm down. There¡¯s an explanation for this.] There¡¯s no explanation for this. The room¡¯s disgusting. Whatever automated systems cleaned up after the resident clearly failed a long time before containment breached. The smell hits in earnest a moment later; it¡¯s the same spit and saliva, with just a hint of cleaning supplies. And filth. Human waste, rotten food, and standing, stagnant water. I regret everything about this hiding spot, and about crawling across the floor. Absolutely everything. But I can¡¯t go back. I¡¯m committed. Whatever¡¯s following me, its footsteps are loud on the concrete floor. So I hold my breath, pinch my nose shut, and keep the Revolver trained on the door. The seconds tick by. My heart races, beating against my stomach as it flips from the smell and the sight. And James doesn¡¯t give an explanation for this.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. He doesn¡¯t have one. That¡¯s the only reason he¡¯d stop talking. He doesn¡¯t know about this place, and it¡¯s not just an oversight in his informational database or him forgetting where he put the data. He doesn¡¯t know what this place was. The System doesn¡¯t know, either. This is a mystery, just like exploring Provisional Reality ARC. The footsteps get closer. I put my finger on the Revolver¡¯s trigger. A second later, a one-eyed, bearded man with a gigantic backpack looks into the room. His single eye locks on me, and Alexander nods slowly. His face doesn¡¯t move; not anger, disappointment, or even a hint of begrudging approval. Just a flat, emotionless confirmation that I¡¯m here. He doesn¡¯t say anything, and I don¡¯t make a move. I don¡¯t even pull the trigger. He¡¯s the last person I expected to see here. The next one is Director Ramirez. He doesn¡¯t see me. I¡¯m not sure how Alexander even knew where to look, but I¡¯m in the dark, and Ramirez hurries by me. He¡¯s got a bandana over his mouth and nose. Part of me thinks that¡¯s a good idea. The rest of me is fixated on Alexander and waiting for the next person to come by. It¡¯s got to be Sora or Dad. It¡¯s got to be. But before I can see who it is, the door slams shut and welds itself into place.
I jerk to my feet and pound on the door that wasn¡¯t there a second ago. I try Smoke Form and Slither. I search for a window to use reality skippers and micromerge through. None of that works. The door¡¯s solid, if rusty, steel. There¡¯s not a gap to Smoke Form through. And the port-hole style window¡¯s covered and solid. So there¡¯s no good way out. ¡°James, that was Doctor Twitchy! Alexander¡¯s with Doctor Twitchy! How¡¯d they get behind us? Who else is with them?¡± [Claire, calm down. I can¡¯t answer those questions. You need to figure out a way out of here, or this whole plan¡¯s going to fall apart. You can¡¯t save the world from inside a cell.] There¡¯s something about those words. I can¡¯t help it. Even though it¡¯s horrible in here, and there¡¯s a chance that Sora and Dad and Lieutenant Rodriguez are in more trouble than I can help them through, and even though I can¡¯t see a way out, the hysterical laughter hits me like a truck. I take a minute¡ªa minute I don¡¯t have¡ªand laugh and cry at the same time. James, for his part, lets me. He¡¯s quiet again. Thinking. I wonder if he has a solution for this. I think I do, but we¡¯re not going to like it. Neither of us is¡ªfor very different reasons. ¡°James, do you know anything about this place?¡± [No.] James goes quiet, and I¡¯m about to keep talking when he continues. [It¡¯s becoming clear that what areas of this sector I had access to were not the whole picture, or even a clear sliver of it. I wonder if there were similar places at SHOCKS Victoria and Vancouver Island?] ¡°Okay, focus. They had to feed these prisoners, right? That door¡ª¡° I point at the solid if rusty steel barrier in front of me¡°¡ªis sealed. I could try Soundbreak, but I doubt it¡¯d do more than shake the rust off. And all the other doors are sealed, too. So how did they feed these people?¡± For the next minute, James and I look for the answer. There¡¯s a hole in the back wall. It¡¯s about six inches tall and a couple of feet wide, and it¡¯s perfectly square. I have James flip my vision to full night vision as I peer inside. It doesn¡¯t help. Just a couple feet beyond it are two steel barriers. They look a lot like doors, and a firm rubbery pad like a treadmill covers the floor. But there¡¯s no way through it. Not for me, at least. And there¡¯s not another exit. The ¡®vents¡¯ for air are nothing more than tiny slits in the ceiling. I doubt I could even get a reality skipper through them, they¡¯re so small. Besides, according to James, these are probably each on their own closed-air systems. Breaking through those won¡¯t buy me anything. The main door¡¯s definitely a no-go. I don¡¯t have the skills to punch through it. So that leaves the food hatch. ¡°I bet there¡¯s a way through there. It can¡¯t be miles long or anything, right?¡± I ask. James stops and thinks. [It¡¯d have to be. The only kitchens on my blueprints are all the way at SHOCKS Headquarters Olympia, and that¡¯s under Mount Olympus. Unless they brought food by train¡ªwhich I¡¯d have been aware of¡ªthere¡¯s got to be a long conveyor or something.] ¡°Is that a wager I hear?¡± I ask. The steel doors in the food conveyor. Those are the key; they have to be. There¡¯s no way SHOCKS built this place without a way to manually observe the people they imprisoned here. Even with all their technology, they¡¯d want a¡­¡±James, what¡¯s the word for a prison where you can see everything?¡± [Panopticon.] I¡¯ve never heard that word before. James keeps talking, though. [You¡¯re right. There¡¯s a whole back door to this place. It¡¯s what SHOCKS would do if they were keeping high-research-value prisoners anywhere for a long time. They were all over SHOCKS VVI, too. I sealed the ones to the Geren-Danger wing there.] ¡°So, think there¡¯s a way through?¡± [Maybe, but it¡¯ll suck.] I¡¯m choosing to ignore that James might¡¯ve been lying to me about ways out, and about the back hallways. He¡¯s got his own motivations, and saving Reality Zero and saving my family and friends might not line up in his book. It doesn¡¯t matter. I tried doing things his way, and it helped¡ªor at least I got more powerful¡ªbut¡­I¡¯m still doing what I need to do for myself, and then I¡¯ll deal with Reality Zero later. So, the steel doors. I need them open. I start with a gravity shell to the center of the tiny box. It swirls and spins, but the only thing it picks up is dust. When it finally fades, the two steel barriers haven¡¯t moved a millimeter¡ªmuch less the inch I need to be able to fit a reality skipper through. The problem¡¯s simple. It¡¯s not even a math problem, really. The door is locked. Electronically, magnetically, or physically. Maybe all three. That doesn¡¯t matter; what does matter is that the door¡¯s locked, and the tiny singularity in my gravity shells isn¡¯t enough to force it open. But that¡¯s okay. I¡¯m not out of ideas. Next up are the flame lance rounds. The first shot hits the uppermost corner of the steel door, where I imagine a hinge is. I fire the second and third shots almost immediately; the metal heats up to a bright red, and I keep the shots coming. This time, they¡¯re slower and more deliberate, keeping the metal close to melting. Then, I Soundbreak. Something snaps in the door. It looks like it maybe shifted a little¡ªlike if I could reach it, I could shake it, but my arm¡¯s too short to be sure. I back off for a minute; the cell still smells like literal shit and rotten food, but the heat pouring out from the food hatch has left my face a little burned. ¡°Think it¡¯s working?¡± [Yes. But Claire, I have no idea what you¡¯re going to find back there. Standard SHOCKS procedures are for each long-term cell to be equipped with a neutralization device capable of destroying the anomaly inside¡ªassuming a method of destruction exists for said anomaly and is relatively cheap. It¡¯s only meant to activate if the anomaly is both incredibly powerful and capable of breaking itself free.] ¡°And?¡± [And this cell was almost certainly Alexander¡¯s. The fact that the neutralization device failed either means it wasn¡¯t installed, Alexander did something to stop it, or there¡¯s something else loose in this facility.]
Something snaps, and the metal door drops a few inches. It doesn¡¯t open, but it¡¯s low enough that a thin line of black has appeared on the far side. That¡¯s enough for me; I don¡¯t bother pulling back from the still red-hot metal. Instead, I load a reality skipper and take the shortest hop of my life. [Stability 6/10] I land in darkness. The smell of spit and saliva¡¯s back, and it¡¯s overpowering. Like a dog¡¯s breath, but worse. The walls are sticky, and even James¡¯s attempts to find an optic aug setting that works give me only shadows and outlines. I¡¯m blind in here. And it¡¯s tight. So tight. My shoulders are scrunched forward, and my head¡¯s almost in my lap, I¡¯m so squished. Even so, the only way out is forward, and I wriggle and squirm down the conveyor belt. It¡¯s hard to tell how far I go, because I¡¯m not moving more than an inch or two at a time¡ªif that. But eventually, my knees don¡¯t hit solid ground, and I fall out of the tiny square tube and onto a sticky concrete floor. It¡¯s a relief to stretch out again, but when I try to stand, the goop on the floor sticks to my back, and I have to really push to break free. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡± I say. [Yes.] James is quiet. [Get ready.] ¡°For what?¡± [I¡¯m not sure.] I ready the Revolver. My aug flips from setting to setting until my vision turns crisp and clear. And a second later, I start shooting. They¡¯re small. Not much bigger than a housecat. But they¡¯re nothing like a housecat. Too many legs. Too many eyes. Are they spiders? I don¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t have time to find out. The Revolver pops and cracks as I empty the rest of the reality skipper rounds into the oncoming monsters. [Offspring.] Thanks, System. The Offspring rush toward me, and I don¡¯t have time to think about what they¡¯re offspring of, because a strand of something sprays out of one of them. An icy burning rope slams into my arm and wraps around it. I switch rounds, Smoke Forming through the line of what I hope is web. The next ones up are fire lance rounds, and I put all of them into the onrushing spider-things as I backpedal through what definitely looks like a kitchen¡ªif someone covered a school kitchen in silly string for a joke. More webs lash out at me from every side. I keep switching rounds and firing and Smoke Forming when I can. It¡¯s not going to be enough, though. I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, but I do know that I¡¯m going the wrong way. Director Ramirez went left, and I¡¯m being forced right. Doesn¡¯t matter. There¡¯s no negotiation or trying to change directions. Not with spiders. There¡¯s only the fight. I Soundbreak and Slither into the space it clears. There¡¯s a door ahead of me. It¡¯s a closet, or a storage room, or one of those big industrial fridges. It¡¯s a port in the storm. I empty the gravity shells and switch to mergekillers, even though I¡¯m not sure they¡¯ll do anything to the Offspring. They keep coming, and the shells punch holes in their carapaces that gush green-white blood into the room. They don¡¯t pull the anomalies into another world or anything, but they do kill them. Then I duck into the closet/fridge/whatever it is and slam the door behind me. I take one deep breath. Then another. Hundreds of legs skitter against the door. Hundreds of eyes are waiting for me on the far side. But even though they¡¯re trying to get in, I¡¯ve got a moment. I take it. The Revolver¡¯s cylinders slowly light back up, and I reload with gravity shells. [Claire, you¡¯re going to need to fight through them. I¡¯m not sure how successful that will be. My Analysis is incomplete. I¡¯d give you even odds at best. They¡¯re low-Geren-Danger, but there are so many of them it might get overwhelming.] ¡°Got it. I have an idea.¡± I swallow. My mouth¡¯s dry, and it tastes like blood¡ªand worse. Then I pull the door open, Revolver barking into the darkness. Announcement Post: Apocalypse Engineering Hello, Halcyon System Readers! Today, I launched a new story, Apocalypse Engineering. It¡¯s a LitRPG Apocalypse following Hal Riley, a farmer from Nebraska turned Chicago mechanic. He¡¯s heading back to his attic apartment on the light rail when terraforming begins, the System initializes, and he¡¯s thrown into a hardcore tutorial dungeon with the goal of surviving several Phases of Integration. Luckily for Hal, he''s a problem-solver. Unfortunately, the apocalypse is by far the biggest problem he''s ever faced.
The apocalypse is just another puzzle to solve. Hal just wanted to go home, listen to the Rolling Stones, and figure out what was wrong with that damn Ford Explorer back at his boss¡¯s garage. He didn¡¯t ask for the world to be destroyed during his subway ride.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The universe had other plans. Now he¡¯s trapped in a multi-phase System Integration, Chicago¡¯s crawling with monsters, and the subway¡¯s turned into a hardcore tutorial. To survive, advance, and thrive, he¡¯ll have to combine magic and technology into a new type of power as he engineers his way through the apocalypse. The universe has plans. Hal will unravel them.
I¡¯ve been working hard on Apocalypse Engineering, and the first book (and a chunk of the second) is already written and beta-read. It¡¯s gotten good feedback from my beta readers and fellow authors, and I¡¯m looking forward to sharing it. It''s at 20,000 words/10 chapters as of right now, and I''ll be posting at least 5 chapters/week until Rising Stars is over, so there will be plenty of content. "But why couldn''t you write Halcyon faster, Aest?" That''s a really good question, and the truth is that Claire''s headspace is hard to get into for an extended length of time. She can be such a mess that it''s difficult to stay focused on who she is and what she has to do. Two chapters/week is about as much Halcyon System as I can sustainably write (Writathon aside). I don¡¯t want to spam you with announcement posts, so this should be the last one until (I think) early June, when Magical Girl Undergrad Four comes out on Kindle and Audible. But I¡¯m really excited about this story, and it deserves its own post! Thanks, Aest Belequa Chapter Eighty-Five Pizza sticks. The cafeteria at Lansdowne served them all the time. They had options¡ªthe salad bar, pre-packaged sandwiches, and a couple of different hot lunch options. Pizza sticks came up more than they probably should have in the rotation. I think it was just popular, but the school claimed that the menus were randomly generated. They were always too hot. Like they¡¯d been microwaved, then put out under a heat lamp for an hour. But they were still my favorite because they were consistent. There were no hidden depths to them, just semi-stale crust, marinara cooked inside the sun¡¯s core, and pepperonis. But there weren¡¯t unpleasant surprises, either. Pizza sticks would never betray me, or ambush me. They¡¯re reliable.
SHOCKS Olympia Affected Humanoid Containment Sector, Washington, USA - June 19, 2043, 2:29 PM - - - - - It¡¯s only been eight minutes since I entered this Geren-Danger wing. And in those eight minutes, I¡¯ve gotten so much new information to work through. Worse, I don¡¯t have time to deal with any of it. The moment the door opens, my Revolver fires four times¡ªonce at each corner of the door. Swirling black-and-blue vortexes appear, tearing Offspring off the walls of the industrial fridge I¡¯ve been hiding in. They swirl and bob through the air, but I¡¯m already reloading, switching to reality skippers. The spider monsters swarm toward me, but I¡¯ve got a few precious seconds and a tiny gap between the singularities. I pull the trigger, get sucked through the straw, and appear on the kitchen¡¯s far side. [Stability 5/8] And just like that, I¡¯m on the move again. The rest of the reality skippers empty into the swarm of Offspring before they can so much as break free to pursue me, but even though my Revolver Mastery feels like it¡¯s on the verge of leveling up, killing spiders isn¡¯t my goal. Instead, I run. I run through the industrial kitchen, Slithering through curtains of icy-hot spiderwebs. There¡¯s a hallway at the far side, and I need to get down it. The singularities break. I keep shooting and running. Spiders scream behind me. They slump over the oven, hand their shattered limbs off the counters, and drip greenish spider blood onto the floor. A poster flashes by about keeping your lips sealed or being terminated. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re talking about being fired; this whole facility seems built to disappear people. The Offspring keep closing in, and I jump from place to place as I retreat down the hallway. The sheer number of spiders is almost overwhelming; it reminds me of the rats from the maze reality in the Aberdeen Hospital basement or the tree faces in Mrs. Lightsen¡¯s room. I keep ahead of the tide, mostly. Mostly. An exceptionally fast spider gets through my firing. Its jaws slice through my leggings and skin, leaving a pair of almost microscopic cuts on my leg. It starts to burn and fizz, and the whole muscle feels like it wants to seize up. I push through, gritting my teeth and stomping the spider to death. [Skill Learned: Physical Anomaly Resistance 15] I keep running down the hall, shooting and stomping as I go. [Skill Learned: Revolver Mastery 24] [Skill Learned: Endurance 9] At least it¡¯s good training. And at least I¡¯m getting stronger. It takes a solid minute of running, Slithering, fighting, and forcing my body to deal with ever-increasing amounts of poison. I¡¯ve probably killed thirty of the oversized spiders when I reach a powered door. [Get through! I¡¯ve got you!] James yells in my ear. I Slither ahead, and behind me, the door slams shut. And the good news is that this definitely isn¡¯t a prison. The door¡¯s not rusted or welded shut, and its wide, square Plexiglass porthole¡¯s downright clean¡ªat least, until a dozen spiders start scrabbling all over it trying to get inside. I¡¯m in a room that¡¯s not much bigger than the basic living bedroom I shared with Alice, but this one¡¯s full of computers. They¡¯re all ancient, and they¡¯re all showing security footage of the facility. I can¡¯t find the kitchen I just fought through or the hallway I ran down, but the rest of this wing¡¯s all there. ¡°James, we¡¯re safe here, right?¡± [Right. It¡¯ll take those anomalies a long time to breach that security door. I¡¯d measure it in months to years, rather than hours. Unless they have something bigger and stronger, we¡¯re secure here.] ¡°Great.¡± I ignore the obsolete-looking, pixelated pictures on the computers and the door I just ran through. There¡¯s another door on the far side. ¡°Can you open that?¡± [Yes. The facility¡¯s powering back on¡ªat least, the wings I have maps for are. We¡¯re back in documented, white SHOCKS facilities, rather than the black one.] I don¡¯t say anything. I just point at the door and sit down at the bank of computer screens. It opens with a soft hiss, and air rushes out of the room. I regret it a moment later, as the smell of spit hits me, but it¡¯s too late to fix that. The battle stress bleeds off of me as I scroll through the cameras with James¡¯s help. It only takes a few seconds to find them. Alexander, then Director Ramirez. Sora, her family, and Dad. A woman who looks more or less fine on a stretcher, a gaggle of teachers who look more exhausted than me, and a handful of SHOCKS agents. Plus Daley. L4-4. He¡¯s still alive. The agents and Daley have weapons, and they¡¯re obviously covering the rest of the group. Silent gunshots go off¡ªI can only tell by the kick of the submachine guns, but they¡¯re fighting something. The group moves down the main hall and into a wide room with¡ª [That¡¯s the tram.] It looks less like a tram and more like one of those monorail bullet trains from Japan. The doors are open, and the power¡¯s on, but every car¡¯s shrouded with webbing and cocoons that might be egg sacs. That means the Offspring have a way into the main facility¡ªand that this isn¡¯t the only way around. I have to move.
The gunfire echoing down the hall was beyond deafening; even with her aural aug turned all the way down, Sora couldn¡¯t hear a thing¡ªexcept for an overwhelmingly loud ringing sound and the guns. She piled into the third car on the web-covered train and shoved herself onto one of the thin, hard benches. Someone slammed into her and squished her into her mom¡¯s side. She just let it happen; the things pouring down the hallway after them wouldn¡¯t care if they were comfortable. They¡¯d only care if they could eat Sora and her family. And they definitely could. Everything had gone crazy; Sora couldn¡¯t stop her heart from pounding in her ears, and every flash of gunfire made her want to jump out of her skin. For a second, she thought about pressing against her mom and trying to cover her face. But she couldn¡¯t.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Sora pushed and twisted until she could see out of the window. There were four cars, and they¡¯d aimed for the second and third; according to Director Ramirez and that Alexander guy, the first was filled with controls with only enough space for a handful of people, and the fourth was strictly for supplies for the SHOCKS facility. If they had to overflow, it wouldn¡¯t be a comfortable ride in there. The agents and handful of armed teachers weren¡¯t enough, either. Their perimeter was getting pushed back faster than they could kill spiders. Sora didn¡¯t need to be a math genius like Claire to see that their time was limited. A rumbling feeling ripped through the train. She couldn¡¯t hear it, and she couldn¡¯t hear the announcement that had to be playing. But the engine was on, and the train was ready to go. The last few defenders piled in, firing their weapons into the oncoming spiders until the doors closed and the train started moving. And for just a split second, Sora thought she saw something move across the crowded platform and launch itself toward the fourth car. Then the train slid into a dark stone tunnel, and Sora stared at the passing rock inches from her nose. They were safe¡ªsafe from the spiders and from that bizarre, horrifying glacier.
My window¡¯s not huge. I¡¯ve got about three seconds from the time the guns stop firing until the train leaves and the spiders get overwhelming. In that time, I Slither and Smoke Form across the battlefield, firing mergekillers that act like regular bullets into the Offspring crowding the platform, and land safely in the fourth car. My aural aug¡¯s resetting repeatedly as James tries to get it running through the deafening combat, so I can only see his words through text. [We¡¯re in for a quick ride; according to the blueprints, this train takes about ten minutes to pass from the Geren-Danger wing to the main SHOCKS Olympia facility. While we¡¯re waiting, let¡¯s think about this. What advantages does this facility offer you that we don¡¯t already have between the two of us?] ¡°James, you didn¡¯t even know about half of this wing. How much other black stuff is under these mountains? Wait, you can¡¯t answer that, can you?¡± [No,] James says. The English accent¡¯s shockingly stiff. Fully academic-sounding. I¡¯ve struck a nerve. [But do those black facilities and wings have critical information that will let us get in under the System¡¯s one-week time limit? We¡¯re down to five and a half days.] ¡°We don¡¯t know the answer. We can¡¯t know the answer because you don¡¯t even know what¡¯s in them!¡± I half-shout. The fourth car¡¯s a mess. Steel i-beams and a pile of what looks like slabs of drywall lay haphazardly everywhere, and a few big tanks that look suspiciously like compressed oxygen like divers use roll around. They¡¯re probably explosive. James starts to say something, but the train¡¯s moving, and the swarm of Offspring chases after it. I put a few rounds into the closest ones, and the train picks up speed with a magnetic humming sound that makes my teeth ache. The back door to the train¡¯s hanging open from when I pulled it open and jumped in. I slide it shut, pushing against the train¡¯s inertia until it clicks. [Like I was saying, the answer doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is increasing your strength to the point where I can make a viable argument about your ability to both beat whatever anomaly comes out of a merge and close the merge itself,] James says. [Discovering the skeletons in SHOCKS¡¯s closet doesn¡¯t help us with that.] ¡°You were a skeleton in SHOCKS¡¯s closet,¡± I snap back. I relax against the drywall as best I can. I don''t know why my relationship with James is starting to fray. It might have something to do with Sidney. As much as I¡¯m trying not to say anything about him, just the fact that Sidney still exists at all and that, unconsciously or not, James was suppressing him, doesn¡¯t sit well with me. But I think it¡¯s more than that, and it¡¯s more than the System and James being one entity. I can¡¯t place it, but it feels a little like¡­ I don¡¯t know. The truth is elusive sometimes. [Yes, I was. Do you intend to dig up every one of them? And what will you do if there are hundreds of skeletons like me? Will you get yourself killed trying to save them all?] ¡°No. I think I can handle myself,¡± I say. But that second question? Whether I¡¯ll kill myself trying to save them all? That¡¯s the core of it, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m a tool. I¡¯ve been a tool since SHOCKS noticed the Revolver. And even though James-as-Sidney cares about me-as-Claire, James-as-the-System cares about me as a bonded human/anomaly pair with massive power potential. That¡¯s what it is. That¡¯s a lot to process, but I¡¯ve got a few minutes. I lie back on the pile of drywall. And that¡¯s when the back half of the train car tears off.
It takes almost eight seconds from the time the train starts shrieking and its brakes send tides of sparks up against the tiny door window until the whole back of my car vanishes. I get to watch it in slow motion, since there¡¯s nothing I can do to stop it. First, the drywall slides to the front of the train. That saves my life; I roll off it and Smoke Form the impact with the steel floor before it can hit the door to Car Three. A pair of massive jaws, each the size of my body, punch through the car and slice into the metal, leaving a five-foot gash in its frame. Intertia does the rest. The train¡¯s got to be moving at a hundred miles an hour. The back half¡¯s brakes are on, and whatever¡¯s attacking it slows it down even more. There¡¯s a horrible shredding sound that goes on and on even as James pops my aug into hearing protector mode. Then the car sheers off entirely. I catch a glimpse of the gigantic spider-thing that just mauled half of a train car. It¡¯s big. Really big. It looks a lot like the Offspring¡ª and a lot like the spiders we learned about in middle school science. Its spinnerette trails half-formed webbing behind it as it tears into the train car until it¡¯s nothing but steel rubble. It keeps surging after me. After us. Sora and Dad and the teachers are one and two cars ahead of me. I¡¯ve got to do something. [That¡¯s a Xuduo-Danger anomaly. No identifying¡ªwait, I¡¯ve got something. I¡¯m extrapolating from the smaller versions we fought a few minutes ago, but my Analysis is coming along.] ¡°Great.¡± I pick myself up off the floor and take stock of what I¡¯ve got that might stand a chance against this thing. Gravity shells are my first thought, but I¡¯ve already seen that they don¡¯t always grab the most powerful enemies¡ªespecially when I¡¯m moving fast and so is my target. I fire one anyway, just in case. The shot grabs a single leg, but the monstrous spider¡¯s momentum is too much; it pulls free and keeps coming, hardly losing a beat. Soundbreak might cause enough of a pressure difference to pop it backward. Fire shells aren¡¯t a clear-cut answer; I could throw one of the oxygen tanks and try to shoot it, but that¡¯s risky. In a small space like this tunnel, an explosion could get trapped and overrun the train. At least, that¡¯s what James thinks. I¡¯ve got reality skippers, but they¡¯re even less effective than the gravity shots, since we¡¯re moving so quickly. I¡¯ve got to have an answer, though. I just finished telling James I could hold my own against just about anything. The spider¡¯s catching up. I don¡¯t have much time. ¡°Is this thing from Earth?¡± I ask. [I doubt it. Analysis won¡¯t fill in that gap, but even anomalous, this kind of monster¡¯s not sustainable here. The food needs alone would be staggering.] ¡°I have a plan,¡± I say. Then I take a deep breath and adjust a few Inquiries. ?Inquiries (5/5) ?Why was the Truth Club¡¯s circle so interesting? ?How does Director Ramirez intend to weaponize the merge generator? ?How can I get Alice back in her body? ?Who is Alexander? ?Why is there a giant spider in the Geren-Danger wing? It¡¯s a stupid Inquiry, but it¡¯s good enough for the System to accept it. And a split-second after I finish it, I use Truthseeker.
Location Unknown, Location Unknown, Time Unknown - - - - - It¡¯s nothing like my trip into Li Mei¡¯s psyche. It¡¯s hardly a psyche at all. There¡¯s a forest. The trees are a thousand feet high. Two thousand. It¡¯s hard to tell because the sun doesn¡¯t reach the floor, and my vision doesn¡¯t reach the canopy. The pine needles on the forest floor are so thick, so deep, that the spider I¡¯m watching hunt sinks into them almost halfway up its massive legs. A second spider looms over me, jaws open and shivering. Its whole body quivers, but I¡¯m not worried. Li Mei was like this. She knew she should be killing me, but she couldn¡¯t. I¡¯m safe as long as I¡¯m in this vision. So, instead of panicking, I watch the first, real spider hunt whatever it is giant spiders eat. It turns out the answer to that is everything. I don¡¯t get information from the spider whose jaws are inches from my temples but can¡¯t close them. That¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t need information. Emotions are enough, and even a spider has those. So I pay attention to the hunting spider¡¯s emotions. Determination. Anxiety. Satisfaction. It hunts gigantic five-legged insects that remind me of deer when they run. Webbing shoots out across their path, tripping them up, and the spider¡¯s on them in seconds, even as the icy-hot webbing eats through their legs. Dozens of them die and are drained dry within just a moment, leaving the monstrous spider hungering for its next meal. But there¡¯s another emotion. Two of them, in fact. The first is hunger. It¡¯s constant. Overwhelming. No matter how much the massive spider eats, it can¡¯t possibly sate itself. No matter how much it kills, there¡¯s always another meal, another hunt, another victim. The hunt is endless; so is the hunger. And a second one. It takes me a long time to realize what it is, because I¡¯ve never really felt it. Not like this, at least. But when it finds what it¡¯s looking for, it¡¯s obvious, and I can¡¯t avoid it. It¡¯s lust. An overwhelming desire to breed, and then to murder its partner and consume. That hunger¡¯s never sated, either. I try to detach while I watch. It¡¯s like a nature documentary. But then I watch as the spider covers itself in its eggs until it¡¯s no longer a black, chitin-covered shape but almost white-orange and glowing from the thousands of eggs stuck to every inch of its thorax, spinnerette, and body. Even its legs carry eggs, leaving the joints barely free to bend. The spider continues into the forest. One egg falls off. It rolls down a hill, and the massive spider that¡¯s been threatening to eat me¡ªthe one without an entire brood of Offspring waiting to be hatched¡ªfollows it. Before it can stop, I catch sight of the thinning, and watch as the egg rolls into it¡ªand through the opening merge.